Deleted Scenes
by Terp4Life
Summary: My first TWD fanfic. This story fills in some of the gaps between the scenes from the show, as if they were deleted scenes like you'd find on a DVD. I'll focus mostly, though not exclusively, on Carol & Daryl, because they're my favorites. Not officially a "Caryl" story, at least at this point, but it also kind of is... because really, they were "Caryl" almost from the beginning.
1. Hope

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, episode 3**

**The woods outside Atlanta, night**

The world had gone to hell, and they were now living outside, in a makeshift camp, with strangers. And yet, she'd been living in hell for years already. This wasn't all that different, except that in this new hell, there was no electricity or running water. And yes, she missed those things… but she would have gladly lived without them for the rest of her life if it meant she didn't have to be afraid for her own safety or that of her daughter ever again. Unfortunately, this trade was not an option.

In a way, it was so much harder now. Now that they had become, however temporarily, part of a larger group, even if it was just on the periphery. Her husband demanded that they keep their distance from "these people." It was harder, in this camp, to pretend that everything was normal. She felt pulled in two directions. On the one hand, there was the loyalty she felt to her husband, no matter that others would probably not understand this loyalty in the face of everything she suffered. If she was being honest, that loyalty was also mixed with a healthy dose of fear. She knew exactly what he was capable of.

On the other hand, there was her desire to be a part of the group, to contribute, to pull her own weight. And not just to pull her own weight, but to help these other people, though they had been strangers to her only a few days before. The world had changed, and she could see that this mismatched assortment of people needed to pull together, to help each other, in order to survive. She had always had a soft heart for others, and perhaps because of everything she had been through, she empathized with their needs that much more. Mostly, it made her feel good to think that she might be someone who had something to give, like maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as worthless as she had so often been told, even though she dared not truly believe it.

There weren't so many of them in their camp, but there were enough people that there was always someone who needed help with something. Her husband certainly didn't seem to feel any need to pull his own weight or to be useful whatsoever. He seemed perfectly content to take from the group when it suited him, all the while claiming that they would be perfectly fine on their own, if need be. He was rude and argumentative when anyone approached him, his wife included, and he didn't care what anyone said or thought. She shuddered when he acted that way, embarrassed by his actions but unable to do anything about them. This was what life had turned into.

She'd known after she'd apologized to Shane on her husband's behalf, though she had not used his name, that it had been a mistake. She simply could not let the confrontation, which had resulted from her husband's insistence on keeping the fire burning higher than the group's agreement, go unmentioned. Everyone had agreed that the fires would stay low so that they could not be seen from a distance. It was for the group's safety. But he had argued that it was cold, and he wanted the fire higher. He was not one to compromise when he wanted something. He didn't care about protecting the group, he just wanted what he wanted. Her apology had been an automatic reaction, the result of her desire to keep the peace between her husband and the rest of the group. Not just that though, it came from within her. She was a kind and gentle person. When there was a wrong, she tried to right it, if it was in her power. It was just that simple.

As soon as Shane walked away from the cooling embers of the fire that had been stomped out, she began to tremble, realizing that it was only a matter of time. The lack of privacy out here in the woods, surrounded by strangers, had not deterred her husband's temper. Changed it slightly, yes, made him quieter about it at times, not wanting their business to be public knowledge, but the end result was the same. _If only I'd kept my mouth shut,_ she thought to herself. She knew that he hated it when she apologized to other people for him. She knew this because it was far from being the first time it had happened. His reaction wasn't always the same, but there was always a reaction, sooner or later.

"It's getting late. It's time to go and get some sleep," he hissed at her, leaving no room for argument, and ignoring their daughter as he usually did. He got up and stalked away from the remnants of the fire. She glanced nervously over towards the rest of the group, clustered around the dying light of the main campfire area, to see if any of them had paid any attention to his departure. No one seemed to be looking in her direction. _Good_, she thought. _It's easier that way._ She felt a momentary longing to be in the circle with the others around the low flames, just talking and pretending that their world wasn't in pieces, but she shook it off. He insisted that they keep their distance from the others, so they did.

"Come on, sweetheart," she said gently to her daughter, smoothing her hair with her trembling hand and kissing the top of her head as she stood up. "Let's go get some sleep."

The girl seemed to sense her mother's apprehension. Sadly, none of this was new to her. "Momma?" she asked, looking up at her mother timidly.

"Sssshhh, come on, it'll all be alright," the woman told her. She wondered if her words sounded as hollow in her daughter's ears as they felt when they left her lips, or if her daughter actually believed them. She'd managed to protect the girl from her father so far, no matter what the cost to herself. She put her arm around the twelve year old's skinny shoulders as they trailed reluctantly behind her husband. There was no way to know exactly what to expect from him next, only to hope, however foolishly, that it _would _be alright somehow.

If only she could _believe_ that it would be alright. She'd been telling herself this lie for many years now, and somehow it seemed that instead of getting better, everything had suddenly gotten worse. Still, this was her life now. There were no options, no choices. Just this.

Keep breathing, keep going.

She tried to suppress a sigh as they slowly followed him across the camp. _Please God_, she thought, _please…_ She didn't know how to finish the thought, or even why she was bothering with her plea. She had made the same attempt to pray for help so many times in the past, and it had never done her any good before. On the contrary, the world as they knew it had ended, the dead had begun to attack the living and civilization had fallen apart… It seemed as if the world was only getting worse and worse. And yet even so, she could not help but hope that somehow, some way, something would change for the better. After all, she was still alive, so there was still a chance, however small.

Despite everything, and however foolishly, she had not given up hope.


	2. At All Costs

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead… but sadly I don't.**

**Season 1, episode 3**

**Outside Atlanta, mid-day**

Daryl Dixon had been away from camp since daybreak. He preferred it that way. Though he and his older brother, Merle, had joined up with this group that they had met on the highway, it didn't mean he wanted to spend any more time with them than was necessary. They were just there to see what they could get out of these people, after all. He had never been good around people, so hunting was his excuse to get away from them. They were a bunch of assholes anyway, who needed 'em? Besides, the group needed the food. Their meager supplies wouldn't last forever, and whatever he could catch out there, whether it was squirrel, deer or rabbit, was the only meat they were going to get. The way he saw it, being the hunter of the group was the perfect job for him. He could be part of the group without really having to be part of the group.

He had been out hunting all morning with no luck, which was very rare for him, and extremely frustrating. Being in the woods was the only time he ever really felt at peace, but he wasn't just out there to wander around. Not today, anyway. He was out there to hunt, so the fact that he hadn't caught anything that morning was really pissing him off. As he had been slowly made his way back towards the camp, moving swiftly and silently through the trees, he'd seen the deer. Daryl had tracked it as it moved ahead of him in the general direction of the camp, which was lucky, because he wouldn't have to drag it far once he'd killed it. He'd hit it with arrows a few times, but it hadn't gone down yet.

Suddenly there was a loud noise from somewhere in the trees and the deer bounded off. _Fuck! Was someone screaming? Who the hell was screaming? _It sounded like one of the kids. _Goddamn it_, he thought. _Goddamn fucking kids need to shut the hell up. _He had the urge to punch whoever it was, and was glad that he was still a ways away so that he didn't have to decide whether or not that would be a good idea. _This_ was why he hated people. They were always fucking things up. He'd be exceptionally lucky if that deer hadn't just bolted completely at the noise. Grumbling various curse words about people and their stupidity to himself, he attempted to pick up the deer's trail again.

…

Carol looked up from where she had been washing the dishes. She'd heard screaming that sounded like it had come from the nearby, somewhere across the camp. Wherever it was, it was _much_ too close for comfort. The sound had sounded like a child's scream, and there weren't many kids in the camp. She was about to panic, when suddenly Sophia ran out from between the trees. She ran to Carol, who clutched her tightly. "What happened, baby?" she asked, feeling Sophia gasping to catch her breath. She shuddered to think about what that scream meant, and about what must be happening to have made anyone scream like that. They all knew that loud noises were to be avoided at all costs in this new world.

"It was Carl," Sophia said between ragged breaths. "I didn't see what happened."

"Ssshhhh, OK, it's OK now," Carol told the trembling girl.

Sophia lifted her head, looking around in fear, searching for answers. Carol glanced around nervously too. "I'm sure it's fine, sweetheart," Carol said soothingly. "Something probably startled him." She didn't necessarily believe it herself, but she was trying her best to calm her daughter.

Then there was a new noise, a commotion in the direction that the scream had come from, not screaming this time, but men's raised voices. The voices didn't seem to be angry, exactly, though something was definitely going on. There was no way to see what it was from where they were though. She didn't hear Ed's voice, which made her glance around once again nervously. She wondered if he was about to appear beside her out of nowhere, as he often did.

Suddenly there was a loud and chillingly familiar crackling of leaves behind them. Carol froze and closed her eyes, almost certain of who it was. The voice she heard next confirmed what she had known.

"Carol!" Ed bellowed harshly, and he was beside her in what felt like an instant. Just as quickly, Sophia had detangled herself from her mother's arms and backed away, putting space between her father and herself. Carol's eyes snapped open but she stared straight ahead, her body remaining rigid. She tried to keep the expression on her face blank, tried not to show the fear that she felt, hoped that he couldn't see her tremble. Sophia didn't take her eyes off of her parents. She had to be sure her mother was alright – not that she could have done anything to help her if she wasn't – and she didn't dare to run away from her father.

Ed hadn't touched Carol, but he stood only inches from her, glaring down at her menacingly, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. "I don't know what those damn fools have gotten up to, but you're not getting yourself involved. You got that?" he whisper harshly in her ear. She hadn't turned her body towards him, but she turned her head slightly to look into his eyes for just a split second before turning away, nodding sheepishly. He was right, of course. It was better not to get involved in whatever was going on. There were plenty of others in the camp to handle it. What good what it have done for _her_ to get involved anyway? They didn't need her.

"Let's go. C'mon back inside the RV. We ain't getting mixed up in whatever those dumb hillbillies are doing over there." He turned and stomped back through the trees.

Carol felt momentary relief that he was no longer standing beside her, but knowing that she was expected to follow him, and that she would then be cramped inside the RV with him for an indefinite amount of time before she'd find an excuse to escape to the freedom of the camp again… that knowledge, that feeling of suffocating, was nearly as bad. There was no escape… there never would be.

She tried to arrange her face into a smile before she looked at Sophia, whose face, as it usually did when her father was around, had turned pale and frightened. She knew that the girl could see through it, but still, it was a game that they played, so she did her part. Slowly, she reached out her hand to Sophia, the only pinpoint of light in her life. The girl ran to her, looking as resigned and frightened as Carol felt, and took her hand with a squeeze. The two reluctantly followed the crunching of the leaves marking Ed's stomping footsteps across camp, both burning with curiosity to know exactly what the commotion had been about, and both dreading going back into the RV.

Before stepping up into the vehicle, Carol turned and craned her neck one more time to try to see something that would give a clue as to what had gone on, but there was nothing to be seen through the thick foliage. She trudged slowly up the few steps, followed closely by Sophia, and braced herself for whatever would come next.

…

Daryl inspected the ground closely and picked up the deer's trail again, moving silently and attempting to catch up with the animal again before it got too far ahead of him. That deer would make a much better meal that a few damn squirrels.

There was something different about the forest now, though. He couldn't quite identify it, but he heard an unfamiliar sound, one that hadn't been there a few minutes before. He paused, his crossbow at the ready, and listened. There was so much to be learned from just stopping to listen. Most people didn't understand that. The way they yammered on most of the time gave Daryl a headache. He'd never really known anyone who had anything to say that he had wanted to hear. Not since his mother had died, anyway. No, it was far better here in the woods where there was no one to disturb him.

Then he heard other voices, probably the men in the camp coming to investigate what that goddamn kid had been screaming about. _Fuck_, he thought again,_ just fucking perfect._ He gave up on walking silently for the last few yards, since it was so clear that no one else was attempting to stay quiet, so when he came out of the trees where the others were standing, they were all looking at him, ready to attack if he had been a walker or other threat.

What he saw in front of him explained what the screaming had been about. Laying on the ground in front of him was the deer he had been tracking, with several of his arrows sticking out of it as well as a large chunk chewed out of the throat. He immediately felt his anger flare up. Beside it he saw a walker, who laid beaten and beheaded.

_Goddamn it_, he thought. _What a fucking waste._


	3. None of It

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead… but sadly I don't.**

**Season 1, somewhere between episodes 3 and 4**

**Outside Atlanta, mid –day**

Carol was devastated. The whole episode down at the quarry had been horrifying for all of them. Ed had been behaving in his usual, rude and ignorant manner. Carol would have been happy to just brush it off and have gone with him, as he'd demanded. It would have saved everyone the drama of Ed's temper, and Carol knew it. Andrea had been the one to speak up first. Of the four women who had been doing laundry, Andrea was by far the most outspoken. When Ed had tried to remove Carol from the group, Andrea had not been afraid to tell him exactly what she'd thought of him.

Ed did not appreciate the way the blonde had spoken to him, and that's when things had gotten ugly. Luckily for the women, Shane had been nearby, and it had taken him only a few minutes to reduce Ed to a bloody mess. It had all happened right before of all of their eyes. Though Shane may have gone overboard, it seemed as though if he hadn't been there to knock Ed down, Ed may very well have inflicted some serious damage on Carol, or even the other women. Really, there was no guarantee that Ed wouldn't punish Carol for it in the future, despite Shane's threat to hurt him even worse if he did.

Afterwards, Shane and a few of the other guys had gotten Ed back to the family's tent, with Ed cursing at them the whole way. Dale had scavenged enough medical supplies from the group's meager collection to allow Carol to clean up Ed's face. She insisted on being the one to do it, though Lori sat in the doorway of the tent, wanting to ensure that her friend wasn't hurt any further. He lay sullenly on the ground, refusing to speak to anyone. Carol could feel his anger seething below the surface as she sat beside him to clean the blood from his face, and she dared not risk doing anything that would unleash that anger. She knew it all too well.

She knew that the other women – Andrea, Amy and Jacqui – had been trying to stand up for her. Along with Lori, they were about the closest thing she had friends since the world ended. Hell, they were just about the closest thing she'd had to friends since long _before_ the world ended. She knew that they had been trying to help her. She also knew that they had risked making things much worse. Because whenever _anyone_ called Ed out on his behavior, Carol ended up being the one to suffer. He always took it out on her. He would sometimes even come after her if he was angry about other things, things that had nothing to do with her.

She sat on a log near the tent her family shared, and could not stop shaking. As badly as Ed treated her on a daily basis, this was not what she wanted for him. She wanted him to _stop_, yes, but not for him to be hurt like this. _But why not?_ she asked herself. Hadn't he done things like this to her many times? Absolutely, he had. She felt dizzy from trying to figure it all out. She put her head in her hands, leaning forward and waiting for the dizziness to pass. She tried to take deep breaths as she sat there, but it was so hard to focus on anything.

One part of her brain rationally understood what had happened. The other women had been standing up for her, something she never seemed to be able to do for herself. She wanted to, but she didn't want to all at the same time. It was better if she didn't, she told herself. It was safer for her, since it would only be worse if she tried anything. And she could never know if he would have taken things out on Sophia. To her, it was not worth it to take that risk. At the same time, she had so appreciated having people standing up for her. She felt unworthy of their help but simultaneously grateful to them all, especially Shane.

And yet, the other part of her brain was furious with Shane. She was the most grateful to him, but also so angry with him. What was going on was none of his business. Ed was her _husband_. He wasn't perfect, but Shane had kept punching long after he was on the ground. There was no reason for that. He hadn't been endangering her or anyone else once he had pulled him away from the group of women and thrown him on the ground. It just hadn't been necessary. Or had it been? Was that the only way to send a message to Ed that his behavior was unacceptable? Surely not… Would Shane have argued that the message would not have been received if he had been less forceful? She felt dizzy again, and forced herself to stop the path that her brain was following.

Lori came and sat beside her. She put a hand gently on her shoulder. "Carol, have a drink of water," the other woman said to her gently. Carol took her head out of her hands and sat up only enough to sip from the water bottle that Lori had handed to her. She tried to hand it back to her. "Keep it," Lori told her. "You need to drink something."

Carol sat the bottle on the ground by her feet, putting her head back down in her hands. Lori sat with her for a while, watching Carl and Sophia play what looked like soccer with Shane and one of the other girls in the camp. Shane and the kids weren't close enough to hear their conversation, but they were close enough that she could see them and know they were safe. Eventually, Lori cleared her throat quietly. "It's not your fault you know," she told the woman beside her. Carol tried to choke back a sob, but failed. "Carol, it's not your fault. None of it." Lori heard Carol start to cry then, and she reached her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Ssssshhhhh," she said soothingly. Carol let her head lean against Lori's shoulder. They sat there like that for a while. There wasn't much else to say for now.

Eventually, Carol's brain started working again. Most of the afternoon was a blur. She didn't really remember coming back up from the quarry, and had only a vague memory of cleaning the cuts on Ed's face before she had come back out and sat herself on the log. That was when she had started thinking. Thinking was dangerous, and usually she avoided thinking too much about her life whenever possible. Her brain had gone to a scary place, one that was just too confusing. Too painful. Too much. She looked up to see Amy now sitting beside her, watching the others in the camp go about their business. As Carol looked up, the other girl turned and smiled at her shyly. They didn't know each other well, and Amy was a good deal younger, but the women in the camp had quickly bonded since they had been thrown together in this new world.

"Hey," Amy said tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

Carol tried to smile at the girl, but she was pretty sure the signal from her brain didn't reach her mouth. "A little better, I guess," Carol sighed. She picked up the water bottle that she had left by her feet earlier, and took a sip. She leaned forward, holding the bottle and looking out at the camp. She suddenly realized that she couldn't see Sophia. Sitting straight up, she craned her neck back and forth, almost frantically. Amy saw the sudden change in her, and realized who she was probably looking for.

"Are you looking for Sophia? She's with Andrea, Lori and Carl. I think they're working on dinner." Amy saw Carol visibly relax, leaning forward the way she had been just seconds before.

After a minute, Carol started to stand up, saying "I should go and help them…" Amy put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Nope, Andrea said to tell you that they have it covered. You're taking the day off." Amy smiled as she saw the older woman's look of surprise, almost confusion. "You do so much for us every day. Too much even. It's about time you had a break." Amy looked at Carol and smiled again.

_What have I ever done to deserve such kindness? _Carol thought. _I don't deserve _it. She was truly touched, though she didn't feel like she had done anything to warrant such generosity. She felt exhausted from the drama of the day, and could not remember the last time she felt like someone cared about her as much as she did at that moment. She returned Amy's smile weakly, taking another sip of water and letting go of a breath she hadn't realized that she was holding.

It was as if someone had relit a flame that she had thought was long since extinguished, even if it was with only the tiniest spark.


	4. Walking Back

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story so far. I'm more appreciative of your feedback than I can tell you, and I'm so happy that you're enjoying it. I'm pretty sure my husband is getting ready to stage a Walking Dead/Fanfic intervention for me, but I don't care. **

**Season 1, episode 4**

**Atlanta, late afternoon**

Daryl, Rick and T-Dog had managed to free Glenn from the group who had taken him by force during the skirmish in the street. Both groups had eventually come to understand that really, they were all just trying to survive and protect their own people – but only after narrowly avoiding a major bloodbath, thanks mostly to Felipe's grandmother. Because of the delay, it was later than they had anticipated when they returned to the place along the railroad tracks where they had left the truck. Except that to their dismay, they found no sign of it.

Suddenly, Daryl's seething rage, which had been barely contained all day, threatened to boil over all over again. Not only had they _not_ found Merle, but now they would have to _walk _back to the camp!

As the rest of the group wondered aloud if Merle had perhaps found and taken the truck, and was driving it, pissed off as all hell, back to their camp, Daryl couldn't help but think to himself that this was all the fault of the assholes he was with. Who the fuck did they think they were, handcuffing his brother on a roof and LEAVING him there? Sure, Merle could be a goddamn pain in the ass, but who were they to decide to restrain him, and _how dare they_ leave him there to die?

No one could really guess how likely it was that Merle was the one who had taken the truck. Sure, there weren't _LOTS _of people in Atlanta, at least that they knew of, but they now knew of one group, so there could be others. What were the chances that another group of people had just _happened_ upon the truck that they had parked there earlier that same day? It was impossible to know for sure. They took off towards the camp at a brisk walk, the fastest pace they could maintain while carrying their gear.

Merle knew where their camp was, of course, and they had found every indication that he could very well still be alive. At least, they had found no evidence suggesting that he was dead. The possibility that Merle was alive and heading for their camp, possibly to seek revenge for being left behind, was chilling, especially because he wouldn't find Daryl there if he were to be already on his way there. The thought was especially frightening to Rick, who couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to Lori and Carl after he had _just_ found them again.

Daryl was so pissed off right then, he would have liked nothing more than to shoot all three of his current companions between the eyes with his crossbow right then and there. The more he thought about the whole thing, the more pissed off he got. If he thought he could've gotten away with shooting them all without getting _himself_ killed, he may have tried. However, it didn't seem like a fight he could necessarily win. Besides that, he'd never been one to go out of his way to hurt people, not before the world had recently turned upside down. Yes, he had a bad temper and was stubborn and hell and no, he wasn't good with people, but given what he had suffered growing up, it was unlikely he'd actually have shot them, at least not if he'd had a few minutes to think about it first. In any case, he decided to focus his energy on getting back to camp, just hoping that at some point he would learn that Merle was alright. He was an asshole, but he'd been the only family Daryl had in the world for a long time.

They took off towards the camp at a brisk walk, the fastest pace they could maintain while carrying their gear. Along the way, Rick kept glancing at Daryl, who was looking more and more pissed off the longer they walked. It was understandable, in his situation. Still, Rick wondered just how long it would be before Daryl lost his temper, how bad it would be when he did, and who it would be directed at. He'd only just met the man, but he could see that his anger wasn't far below the surface. Daryl was muttering under his breath, and Rick and the others could make out only a word here and there… among them were mostly words that would not have been suitable if there'd been any children around.

Rick felt responsible for what had happened to Merle, and felt like he should be the one to say _something_ to his brother. He matched his pace to Daryl's and attempted briefly to make conversation. "Daryl, I…" was as far as he got.

Daryl cut him off almost immediately. "Don't wanna talk to none of y'all assholes. Ya did what ya did. Ain't gonna convince me it was right, so jus' leave me the hell alone." Rick nodded at him and fell back a few paces to give him some space. Maybe he'd try again later, but it was obvious that nothing he said right now was going to make things any better.

The group walked in silence, concentrating their energy on keeping their pace as quick as they could while feeling the weight of the gear they carried seem to increase as the afternoon wore on. They kept on this way for what seemed like hours, as the sun got lower and lower in the sky. The men knew that they needed to try to make it back to camp before they lost the light completely, and they kept moving as quickly as they could.

They were probably a few miles from camp when T-Dog started falling behind the group. He was breathing a little bit heavier than he had been earlier. "Hey," he panted quietly to the others, "could we… ya know… take a break real quick? Just stop for a minute or two?"

Daryl's anger, which had continued to simmer all day, suddenly boiled over. He wheeled around to look at T-Dog, but didn't slow his pace. "A break?" he hissed, "What do you think, we have all night? You wanna be walkin' back to camp in just the goddamn moonlight?" Daryl looked like he was about to punch T-Dog in the face, or possibly reconsider his decision _not _to shoot him with his crossbow.

Rick stepped between the two before anything happened, holding out a hand in Daryl's direction and looking from one to the other. "If anything," he said in a low voice, "I think we need to go faster. I don't like it out here. I have a bad feeling… like something's off. And Daryl's right, we don't want to be walking back in the dark if we can avoid it." They all realized at this point that it was _already _dark, and that they'd feel a lot better once they got back to their group safely.

It was just then that they heard a bloodcurdling scream, one at first, followed by others, echoing across the hills. They looked at each other then and started running, afraid of what they would find but desperate to get back to camp and find out what was going on.


	5. Gone

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, somewhere between episodes 4 and 5**

**Outside Atlanta, night into early morning**

That night had been like a nightmare, and the entire group – what was _left_ of the group, that is – was all pretty traumatized. It had all gone wrong so quickly. One minute they were enjoying the dim light of a small campfire, the taste of the fish that Andrea and Amy had caught earlier that day and that Carol had prepared, and each other's company. They had somehow managed to momentarily put out of their minds that their worlds had crumbled around them not long before, and they were living amid constant danger with little to no shelter or supplies. For just a moment, everything seemed like it might just be OK.

And then just as suddenly as that moment arrived, it had vanished. Without warning, walkers had invaded their camp, overrun it under the cover of darkness. There had been fatalities… too many. Amy had been the first – or at least, hers had been the first scream that they'd heard, followed closely by others. Their peaceful, quiet night had suddenly turned into a nightmare. It would be a long, long time before they would stop associating quiet nights with impending danger.

The four men who had gone to Atlanta to search for Merle had returned, though without Merle, just as the walkers were overrunning the camp and just in time to help fight back their attackers. When it was over, those who were left had huddled by the firepit, working together to keep watch in all directions at once. Suddenly, they couldn't be too careful.

Late that night, once order had been restored, head counts had been done and the threat from the walkers had passed, Rick had come to tell Carol that Ed had been one of the ones who'd been attacked, and that he hadn't survived. She had been too stunned to react. She had sank quietly to the ground where she stood and stared at her hands. Rick had knelt down next to her, asking if she was alright, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. There was concern in his eyes. He had only known this woman for a short time, and hadn't had many opportunities to talk to her, but his had always been his least favorite part of his job in his former life. Delivering the news that someone had passed away. The fact that he had done it many times had never made it easier.

Carol had just nodded mutely, and he had withdrawn to tend to the many, many other urgent issues in the camp. Sophia had been standing nearby with Carl and Lori, and she had rushed to her mother to see what was wrong. She'd sat down beside her on the ground, had taken Carol's hand in her own small one.

"Momma…?" she had whispered.

Carol had to force the carefully world from her lips. In a whisper that matched her daughter's, she said, "Sophia, your father… he's gone. Some walkers got into the tent, and… he's gone." There wasn't much else to say.

Sophia had sat in silence for a moment, looking at her mother, taking in what Carol had just said. Carol was surprised that she hadn't reacted at all, but then, she had always been afraid to react when her father was around, afraid that any kind of response at all would set him off somehow. As she watched her daughter sit looking back at her, she saw tears forming, though her face remained expressionless. It was as if Sophia was afraid to move, lest she break some sort of spell.

"Really?" Sophia had whispered. "Are you sure?" Carol had just nodded. That's when Sophia's expression had changed. She wasn't smiling, exactly, but she looked relieved, much like the way Carol didn't want to admit that she felt. She realized then that her daughter's tears hadn't been caused by sadness. "Then he can't hurt you anymore, momma," the girl whispered.

"No baby, he can't," she whispered, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace.

That long night, Carol held Sophia close, as did Lori with Carl, on the cold, hard ground. Their backs leaned against the logs the encircled the glowing embers of the firepit. Eventually their children's heads moved to their laps as they drifted off to sleep. The children were the _only_ ones who slept at all that night. The adults remained awake and waited for the sun to reappear on the horizon, to bring an end to the terrible darkness of that night and with it, a new day.

As the hours passed and Carol stared into the glow of what had been a fire, she had mixed emotions for what had taken place that night. She felt terrified of the walkers, now having seen first-hand how they could so easily destroy what little security they had established in their camp. She felt frightened that she did not know how to protect Sophia in this new, unfamiliar world. She felt compassion for all of the others in the camp who had lost so much, whether that night or in recent days.

But for herself, Carol felt no pain, no sadness, not even fear – not for her _own_ safety. On the contrary, she felt safer than she had in as long as she could remember. Since before she and Ed had been married. What's more, she felt suddenly weightless. It was as though a chain that had bound her tightly for so long had suddenly disappeared. She felt… free.

It didn't seem possible. What was the appropriate reaction in this situation? There wasn't exactly anything in her years of experience that could have prepared her for where she now found herself. How could she, as a compassionate human being, feel so elated in the face of such tragedy? It seemed like a betrayal to the rest of the group, to her own humanity even. She didn't smile outwardly. No, that would have been wrong. It was certainly not a day for happiness.

But inside her, that small spark had just grown into small bonfire. For the first time in as long as she could remember, there was nothing stopping her from having hope. After all, she was free. She had never, in all the years of her marriage, allowed herself to believe that this day would come. As far as she was concerned, the end of the world hadn't been the end. It seemed to her that suddenly, it was only the beginning.

…

Daryl had not slept that night. No one had, except the kids. The adults who were still alive had been by the fire but facing away from it, looking out into the darkness. Watching. Unable to let down their guards after so much tragedy. So much bloodshed.

It had all happened so fast. He had been angry the entire way back from Atlanta. He remembered wanting to shoot all three of his companions with his crossbow. And then suddenly, just before they had reached camp, everything had changed. The first scream that they had heard – which turned out to be Amy, the younger of the two blondes – had shattered his simple anger and turned the night upside down. Suddenly, he was a part of the group, fighting with them against the walking dead. The "walkers," as the people in the camp called them. Whatever they were called, a herd of them had wandered into the camp with no warning. It had been horrible, and they had almost been too late.

_If we had just been a little faster,_ Daryl told himself. _If only those damn Vatos hadn't kidnapped Glenn and made them waste time negotiating for his release. If only they'd found Merle still handcuffed on the roof, and not had to spend time tracking him. If only that asshole T-Dog (what he fuck kinda name was T-Dog, anyway?) hadn't dropped the handcuff key down a fuckin drain. Hell, if he was wishing, then how about if only those goddamn sons of bitches hadn't handcuffed his brother to the roof in the first place. They wouldn't have had to go any-fucking-where and they would've been in the camp when the walkers showed up in the first place. Would that have stopped what happened? _

Of course it was impossible to say for sure. But the what if's were driving him crazy. He couldn't shut his mind off. OK, so Merle's original plan had been to see what they could get out of these people and then get the hell out of there, but Daryl hadn't accepted that plan. Not really. He followed Merle, because it was what he did. He had always followed Merle. He had no one else in the world. Never had. But he knew that he couldn't do what Merle was telling him they were going to do. He would just up and walk away before he'd actively, purposely steal from these strangers, who had been nothing but good to the Dixons, if maybe a little bit suspicious of them. At least that's what he _told _himself. Again, who really knew what would have happened? He was glad that it hadn't come to that, but… what it _had_ come to, well, there were no words for this.

The point was, that none of those "what-if's" _had_ happened, and now all of a sudden there was no Merle, there was just Daryl. This group of people, well OK yeah, they seemed to be assholes as much as the next group of people he might hope to run into out there, but he didn't figure he wanted to strike out on his own. Not just as yet, anyway. Where the hell did he have to _go_? Nowhere, that's where. The world seemed to have ended and he had no-fucking-where to go. May as well stay here with these assholes, at least for now, rather than go out and look for new assholes to hang around. They annoyed the shit out of him, but they weren't _bad people_, least not far as he could tell. He had just never had any use for _any_ people… just like nobody had ever had any use for him. That was just how life worked, in his experience.

The sun was slowly coming up by the time his mind settled down enough to allow him look around at the group of people around him, all wearing similarly shell-shocked and exhausted expressions. These were going to be the people that he knew now, at least for the time being. It wasn't like before, and it wasn't ever going to be again. He was going to need to try to get along with these people, at least some of the time. This was a very new concept to him, and he immediately felt closed in by it, despite being outdoors. He had trained himself never to need anyone, because there had never been anyone in his life that he _could_ need. Nothing good had ever come of needing anyone. So the fact that he knew he was going to have to deal with these people… he started getting pissed off just thinking about it. Anger was his default emotion.

He walked towards Rick, who was standing at the edge of the clearing, looking through the trees in the direction of the sunrise. "Gonna check the perimeter, 'n gonna try 'n catch somethin' fer breakfast," Daryl growled at him as he walked by. He turned around to see Rick nod at him, but said nothing.

Daryl stalked off into the woods, the place where he felt most at home, and was gone from the group's sight.


	6. Water

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, episode 5**

**Outside Atlanta, mid-day**

It was another scorching day, and there was still much to be done to clean up from the previous night. The sooner those bodies, walker and non-walker alike, were out of their sight, the better everyone would feel.

Carol had tried her best to help around the camp all morning. She made breakfast for the group, as she'd been doing nearly every day since they'd settled there. She looked after Carl, Sophia and the few other kids in the camp, as she always did, preferring to have Sophia within her sight anyway. She'd been trying to make sure that the men all had some water from their meager supply as they worked on moving and "taking care of" the dead. Whether those dead were being burned or buried depended on whether they had been walkers or their victims. She needed to keep busy. It was how she had always coped. Yes, with Ed gone she felt free, but that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. For now, she just had to keep moving.

The sun wasn't quite at its highest point of the day, but already its heat was blistering. As she moved about her self-appointed duties, she silently wished for sunblock, air conditioning and ice cream, but dispelled these wishes quickly, preferring not to focus on luxuries that she would probably never have again. She was sweaty, dirty and exhausted, and felt every bit of it… but she and her daughter were alive, and her husband was not. That was worth all of the ice cream that may once have been in the world.

As she walked around the camp in her quest to be useful, she slowed to a stop. Not far away, she saw Daryl, pick axe in hand, swinging it down into the heads of the dead. She wasn't sure why, but she stood and watched as he did this several times without even realizing it. This was a truly gruesome job, and she wondered if it bothered him. She knew he had experience with hunting, but this was a totally different thing. These were, or had been at one time, human beings… and this wasn't something he was doing in order to feed the group, like skinning animals that he had caught. No, smashing a pick axe into a human skull couldn't possibly be a pleasant job to have. She wondered exactly how _he_ felt about having to do it, and she was grateful that it wasn't _her_ job.

Her breath caught when she looked down at the bodies that still remained in front of him. Somehow, though there wasn't much left of it, she recognized one of the bodies as Ed. He had treated her like dirt for as long as they had been married, had ruined her self-confidence, physically and mentally abused her… he had just generally been a terrible human being. Maybe there _was_ some small bit of justice in the world after all, because in the end he had met a truly horrifying end. But then again, the same thing had happened to so had so many others who _hadn't _deserved it.

She felt the tears stinging her eyes before she even realized that she was crying. She wasn't sure who the tears were for, her husband, the path her life had taken, or the many, many other victims. It was possible that they were there for all of these reasons.

All morning long, Daryl had been helping to "take care of" the bodies of those who hadn't survived the walker attack the night before – right now, he was "taking care of" them with a pick axe through the head – a job that he didn't particularly enjoy, but one that he knew had to be done. He knew that life was full of unpleasant things that had to be done nonetheless, so he did them and tried not to dwell on it. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner it would be done and he could move on to something else. It was that simple. He was definitely looking forward to _not _being covered in the remains that splattered him when the pick axe punctured the bodies before him. Best to get it over with.

He was engrossed in his task, so he didn't even notice Carol walking towards him. He didn't realize that she'd been watching him from a short distance away. Suddenly she was just there beside him, staring down at the mangled corpse that he noticed, upon closer inspection, had been her husband. Looking back at her, he noticed that she was as sweaty and dirty as he was, her once white shirt no longer resembling its original color and the tears that were falling down her cheeks leaving streaks in the dirt on her face. And yet, even in tears, she looked… what was it? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he found that he didn't mind her standing there next to him – which confused him, because he had wanted nothing to do with _any_ of the members of the camp – "those assholes," as he had been referring to all of them in his head – since he had arrived. There was just something about her, and it wasn't just that he hated to see _any_ woman cry, though he did.

_But why was she crying? _He wondered why she would cry over the loss of someone who had been so horrible to her, even if he _had_ died in such a gruesome way. He knew that _he_ sure wouldn't have spilled any tears if it had been his father. The bastard had deserved that and more.

"I'll do it. He's my husband," she said to him quietly through her tears. As far as she was concerned, it seemed only right that it be her that swung the pick axe. Her responsibility as well as her right.

He looked at her and silently handed over the large tool. He wondered if she'd even be able to lift it high enough to use it. She had a small frame, and he imagined that the cruelty of her life even before all this insanity, the walkers and all that came with it, with an abusive husband and a daughter to whom she seemed to devote her every breath, hadn't left her much time to take care of herself. She certainly didn't _look_ very strong. He was surprised when she raised the pick axe in the air, rested it on her shoulder for a minute, and then brought it crashing down into the skull of the man who must have been a monster to her for so long. Not just once, which was all that was necessary, but again and again and again. She cried harder with each blow, as if releasing something that had been pent up for far too long.

When her strength gave out, she stood panting from the exertion, still sobbing. She leaned against the pick axe's handle for a moment before handing it back to Daryl, feeling both relief and disgust at the same time. He looked her in the eye and gave the slightest of nods. All she could do in return was to purse her lips ever so slightly before she stumbled away. Though he had been focusing on pick axing and not actually moving the bodies up til now, Daryl dragged Ed's now destroyed body to the pile of those to be buried, which was further out of sight. He couldn't quite explain what compelled him to do it, except that he figured that if she came back that way she'd probably rather not look at it again. And he definitely preferred not to see her cry again if there was anything he could do to prevent it.

Once Ed had been moved from view, Daryl finished "taking care of" the remaining dead. With help from Morales, he loaded them into the truck to haul them down to where Rick and Shane were working on burying them, once they had finished digging the graves. He had heard Glenn insisting that "their people" be buried, though given the choice, he would have burned Ed's body along with the walkers. That man had had no right to call himself a human being.

Turning toward his former "work station," which was now clear of bodies to be pick axed, he saw that Carol had perched herself on the edge of the red sports car that Glenn had driven back from Atlanta, which sat not far from there. The car had now been stripped for parts for their other vehicles, so it was now a fixture of the camp, and not going anywhere. Carol was staring out towards the forest, towards nothing, really. He realized that it had been a while since he had seen her little girl, Sophia, attached to her mother's hip, and he looked around until he saw her at the far end of the clearing, near Lori and deep in conversation with Carl.

Next he walked to the makeshift kitchen area to see if there was any water that had already been boiled, just to be sure it was safe. He found one small bottle, about half full, and was considering whether to dump it over his head or drink it, when he had another thought. He turned around slowly and looked back at where Carol was sitting. She had now sunk to the ground beside the red car, sitting in the small amount of shade to be found there. She had hugged her knees to her chest, and her forehead rested between her knees. Not knowing what compelled him to do so, he strode slowly towards her. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but he figured that she probably hadn't thought to drink any water _herself_ that morning, though she had made the rounds to everyone else several times each.

Carol heard footsteps in the dirt behind her. She wondered, if she ignored them, if the owner of those footsteps would just go away. She felt too exhausted to even lift her head. She heard the feet shuffling beside her and after a moment, based on the scratching of the dirt and the rush of air against her bare arm, she realized that that person had not gone away. On the contrary, they had sat down next to her. She resigned herself to the fact that should would have to lift her head.

Daryl wasn't sure what to do to get Carol's attention. He figured she probably wasn't asleep in that position, but that it definitely seemed like she wanted to be left alone. He could relate to that, since it's how he felt most of the time himself. Still, he had seen this woman work all morning in the hot sun, helping everyone else, and she was going to need water if she was going to keep going. Seemed like no one else had even noticed. He wasn't quite sure why _he_ had noticed. He just knew that ever since he realized what kind of a man her husband had been – it had been pretty clear to everyone in the camp – it had eaten at him that he couldn't do anything to help. Of course it had, considering it was so similar to his experience with his own father growing up. But now, her abusive husband was gone, and there was nothing stopping him from lending a hand. The problem was just figuring out how to go about doing that. He shuffled awkwardly for a few minutes before sitting down next to her in the dirt.

Lifting her head, Carol had expected to see Lori or one of the other women having come to check on her. She was surprised when she opened her eyes and it was Daryl sitting beside her. She couldn't remember the two of them having had a whole conversation even once since they'd been in the camp together, so she wondered what he was doing here. She attempted a smile, but her mouth only turned up ever so slightly. "Hi Daryl," she whispered, her voice hoarse from both crying and dehydration.

Daryl didn't know exactly what to say or do. Just coming over here was already way out of character for him. He was glad that she wasn't crying anymore, but she looked… defeated. It was almost worse than the tears. "I, uh, brought ya some water. You been out in the sun givin it to everyone else. You gotta have some too," he said awkwardly, holding out the bottle to her. She took it, and this time she did smile at him. He couldn't help but think that he'd never seen anyone smile and yet look so damn sad at the same time.

She wanted to thank him, but the words were stuck in her throat. It was true, she hadn't had anything to drink that morning. Despite how dehydrated she felt, it hadn't occurred to her that she needed water. Honestly, she hadn't even noticed. She was dumbstruck that _Daryl_ had noticed. Carol had been told many times over the years that she saw the good in everyone, no matter if it was there or not. According to Ed, that had made her "a goddamn fool," who was sure to be taken advantage of. Despite this, she had always maintained that there had to be goodness in everyone, it was just a matter of how deep it was buried, and how hard you had to look to find it. Of course, her husband had challenged this theory with his cruelty. However, there were times when she had managed to convince herself that even _he_ had a spark of goodness in him, however small and hard to find. This was the extent of her faith in people.

It had been so long since _anyone_ had shown her kindness, with the exception of Sophia, of course, that when presented with that half full bottle of warm water, she simply did not know how to express her gratitude. She could not have been more surprised if someone had tied a ribbon around the moon and pulled it down to Earth for her. She looked at him, biting her lip, because she was sure that she was about to cry again. Sure enough, she felt the familiar sting of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She tried to hide this by looking away from him, towards the woods in front of them, and unscrewing the top of the bottle. She took a small sip, and could not remember any water ever tasting so good. She took a few more small sips before replacing the cap. She looked back at him gratefully, and held the bottle out to him.

"Thanks so much, Daryl," she said in a tired voice, "that was just what I needed."

Daryl looked at her like she was crazy. "Ya gotta drink more'n that! That water's for _you_, ya know!" She looked a little startled, like she was about to protest, but the stern look on his face made her change her mind. She put the bottle down next to her, and hugged her knees to her chest again.

"Well, thank you. You didn't have to do that." She didn't feel the tears in her eyes anymore, but she was pretty sure that the small smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes. Still, at least she wasn't crying in front of him, again. She hated to feel so weak.

Daryl couldn't think of what else to do or say, so he abruptly stood up, mumbling, "I gotta get back to work," before he strode across the camp to where Rick and Shane were having some sort of heated discussion. Sighing, Carol pushed herself wearily off the ground, reminding herself that she needed to be useful so that she didn't become a burden to the group. She dusted herself off and picked up the water bottle, looking at it in awe. It was possibly the greatest, most thoughtful gift she had ever been given.


	7. Claustrophobic

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 1, episode 6**

**Center for Disease Control, Atlanta, GA **

**Afternoon**

Just when they had thought that there was no one at the CDC after all, the doors had opened. The man who had met them inside the doors had pointed a gun at them, but he had then allowed them to come in as long as they submitted to a blood test. They would have agreed to a lot more than that in order to get in at that point. Once they were inside, Dr. Jenner took them into the CDC complex, which was like an underground maze. Carol had watched the elevator display with trepidation. As Dr. Jenner walked them down a long hallway to the rooms where they would sleep, she had asked him the question that had taken over her mind.

"Are we underground?" She was fairly sure they were, and she didn't want him to confirm it… but at the same time, she _had_ to know.

"Are you claustrophobic?" he had asked her.

"A little." That might have been an understatement.

"Try not to think about it." That was Dr. Jenner's advice.

That was when Carol began to shake. It was only a little at first, but the longer they stayed there, the more she could feel it effecting her. The more she tried not to think about it, the more she thought about it. While it was true, when faced with either walkers or being underground, being underground seemed safer in theory… still, she couldn't dispel the panic she felt.

Daryl had heard Carol ask Jenner if they were underground, and then admit to being claustrophobic. He wasn't crazy about being underground either. Something about it was just… unnatural. People weren't supposed to live underground. He dreaded being stuck inside the building with all of these people. He didn't mind them _quite_ as much as he had at first – he'd at least stopped calling _most_ of them "assholes" in his head – but there'd be no heading out into the woods to get away from them as long as they stayed here. There'd be no heading _anywhere._ He chewed anxiously on his thumbnail, uncomfortable just thinking about it.

The group had settled into the rooms along the long straight hallway, where they enjoyed not only the lights and air conditioning, but most blissfully, the chance to take hot showers. One by one, they each did, and the feeling of being clean was something like heaven. This combined with the delicious dinner they were able to make with the supplies in the CDC kitchen – by far the best meal they'd had since they'd known each other – helped the group as a whole relax dramatically, at least for as long as they could keep their minds from going to what came next.

Daryl had had quite a bit to drink that evening – lots of them had. He had started out with the wine bottle in front of him, ready to pour it into glasses, but there were many open bottles and no one had needed any when he picked it up… so he just held onto it, drinking straight from the opening. He wasn't an alcoholic like his father had been, but he'd definitely done his share of drinking in the past. He didn't mind the taste, and it quickly helped him relax a little from the stress of being underground and so closed in with so many people. He'd eventually stumbled back to his room and passed out.

Carol, while she relished the feeling of having had a shower and a good meal for the first time in so long, could not relax. She'd had just a little bit of wine. She'd never been much of a drinker, and hated the thought of not being alert enough to watch out for Sophia. Perhaps surprisingly, she hadn't gotten any more anxious after Shane's insistence on breaking the tranquility of their meal to ask Dr. Jenner about the realities of what was happening there, though that had indeed happened mid-way through dinner. She just could not relax knowing that they were trapped underground, their rooms reminding her of giant coffins. That night, long after Sophia had drifted off to sleep, Carol lay tossing and turning on the cot nearby.

Finally, she decided that she couldn't lie there another second. The room had slowly been feeling smaller and smaller and her anxiety was only increasing as she tried to convince herself to sleep. It was ironic, she thought to herself, how much better she had slept on the cold, hard, dirt in a cramped tent than here on a soft mattress. She decided that she needed to get up and move and hopefully find something to distract herself enough to let her fall asleep. Groaning slightly as her tired body protested the movement, she stood up and stretched, grabbing a robe that she'd found among the clothes that their host had offered them. She scribbled a note for Sophia on a scrap of paper that she found on a side table, on the off chance that she woke up, the slipped out the door into the hall.

The hallway was quiet. It had been so long since she'd spent a night indoors, she had almost forgotten what it felt like. Still, being underground was far, far different than being in a house. True, life in her house had been terrifying for a different set of reasons, and if given the choice, she wasn't sure which one she preferred. Truth be told, she was _almost_ missing life back at the camp in the woods that they had just abandoned, preferring that to either her current accommodations underground or life in a house with Ed. It was an impossible choice, given the danger of walker attacks out in the open, of course, but luckily it was not a choice that she had to make. Only one of those three was available to her at the moment, one never would be again – thank goodness! – and the other one… well, if there was one thing she had learned recently, it was that you just never knew what might happen next in life.

She reached the rec room at the end of the hall and pushed the door open slowly, flicking on the light switch. It was just as she'd left it when she'd ushered Carl and Sophia towards their beds, leaving Lori to browse the selection of books. She walked back towards the bookshelf, and walked slowly along the long row of books, her fingers trailing over their spines. There were _so many_ books here. Reading had always been something that she'd enjoyed, especially when she was young, before her life had filled up with so many other responsibilities. Living with Ed, and then having Sophia to take care of, hadn't exactly left her a lot of leisure reading time. She let the fleeting thought of Ed escape her mind as easily as it had entered. Ed was gone.

Not having the patience to browse the entire collection of books, she pulled one out at random. The title was East of Eden, written by John Steinbeck. She knew the author's name, but hadn't read the book. Deciding it was as good as any other book she might choose at random, she settled herself against the cushions of the couch, stretching out so that her head rested on a pillow at one end of the couch and her feet stretched out in front of her, and began reading. It was comforting to have something besides her own grim reality to focus on, and before long she felt herself finally relax. She didn't even notice her eyelids getting heavy, and within a few minutes she was asleep.

A few hours later, closer to morning but still before sunrise – not that they could have seen it from underground – the door to the rec room creaked open. Daryl tiptoed into the room, having slept as long as his body would allow him. He had grown so accustomed to sleeping with one eye open, so to speak, and only for a few hours at a time, that he hadn't made it through the whole night. Besides, he wasn't crazy about this place. Sure, it seemed safe enough for now – no walkers or any other identifiable threats – but something about Dr. Jenner's demeanor didn't sit right with him. He'd always preferred the woods to civilization anyway, and this sealed in living space had him feeling like a caged animal. He'd woken up, suddenly completely awake, and needed to move. He'd gotten in the habit back in camp of walking the perimeter to check for threats first thing in the morning, so he'd been patrolling the inhabited area of the complex, just checking to be sure it was still safe.

He was surprised to find the rec room light on when he entered the room. It had been so long since the group had had access to electricity, and Dr. Jenner had warned them to go easy on the power, that he hadn't expected anyone in their group to be careless about leaving lights on. _Maybe it was one of the kids_, he thought to himself. As he took another few steps into the room, he understood what had happened. He noticed right away that Carol was laying on one of the couches, a book still open in her hand, having slipped to the space between her rib cage and the couch cushion. He wondered why she'd ended up sleeping here, instead of her room.

He couldn't explain why, but the next thing he knew, he'd picked up the blanket that he saw folded on a chair in the corner and laid it over her. He saw her fidget slightly as the weight of the blanket on her registered, and he decided to slip out before he accidentally woke her up. The woman had been through enough lately – they all had – and she deserved to get some sleep. He walked back to the door as quietly as he could, purposely leaving the light on. It would probably be pretty scary to wake up in a strange place in the dark, he decided, especially since the lights had been on when she'd fallen asleep. He was just pulling on the door handle to leave when he heard a quiet murmuring behind him, and the sound of someone shifting. He turned around to see Carol looking up at him.

"Hi Daryl," she said quietly, sounding exactly like someone who'd just woken up. He had noticed that she, unlike most of the others in the group, never had that disdainful edge to her voice when she spoke to him. He just nodded at her, but he didn't pull the door open as he had been about to.

"I must have fallen asleep reading. I came down here to find something to distract me. For the life of me I couldn't sleep," she told him.

He wasn't sure why he was standing there listening to her, but he decided it would be rude to just walk out when she was talking to him, even if that was his first impulse. He might have done that if it'd been one of the others, but he didn't mind Carol so much, and wouldn't go out of his way to be rude to her.

"Ya still feelin claustrophobic?" he asked, letting go of the door handle and taking a few steps back toward the middle of the room.

_He heard me say that? And remembered it?_ she thought to herself in surprise. She nodded slightly, grimacing. "I've never liked the feeling of being closed in. It makes me nervous when I feel like there's no way to… escape. You know, just in case."

_Oh yes I do,_ he thought to himself. He was pretty sure that comment had something to do with that asshole husband of hers, and it reminded him of how he'd felt about his own asshole father growing up. He had tried to always make sure there was a way to escape, if possible.

He nodded at her again, his face revealing nothing. "Yeah, I don't like it down here neither. It's too… quiet. I'd rather be in the woods." It may already have been the longest conversation he'd had with anyone in the group voluntarily since he'd met them all by the quarry.

She nodded in understanding, swinging her legs around so that her feet touched the floor. She stood up and stretched, then said, "So you couldn't sleep either? Are you on patrol?" She walked towards him, stopping a few feet away.

"Yeah, not really used to sleeping much anymore," he mumbled, taking half a step back from her. "Figured I may as well walk around and check things out." She nodded again. _Why am I telling her this? _he wondered.

"I guess I should go back to bed, see if I can get a few more hours of sleep before the day starts. And I'd hate for Sophia to wonder what happened to me when she wakes up," Carol said, walking by him towards the door with the book she'd been holding still in her hand. Daryl turned to follow her out of the room, flicking the lights off as he closed the door. They walked down the hall in silence. The quiet in this place was eerie, and they both felt it. Carol paused at the door to the room she and Sophia were sharing, her hand on the doorknob.

"Good night, Daryl," she said quietly. He nodded at her again. She started to open the door, then turned and said over her shoulder, "And thank you for the blanket." The corners of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly at the acknowledgement of his kindness.

Giving him a small smile, she slipped back into the darkened room and was relieved to find Sophia still sleeping. She crumpled up her earlier note, tossing it into the trash can, and climbed back under her covers. Somehow, this time she was able to relax and she fell asleep quickly. She still didn't _like_ this place, but somehow talking to Daryl had made her less anxious about being there. It seemed safer.

Daryl stood looking at the door for a moment after Carol had closed it, then turned and continued down the hall. Something wasn't right, and he was going to keep trying to figure out what. He felt a sudden, powerful urge to keep these people – his group – safe.


	8. Better

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, mid-day**

It had all gone wrong so quickly, and not just once. For this group of survivors, things never seemed to go wrong just one thing at a time.

After escaping the CDC building with only seconds to spare before it had gone up in a fiery ball, they'd been on the road again, not knowing exactly what would happen next but once again, safe for that moment. It seemed like since the world had gone so wrong, being safe for _that moment _was the best they could hope for. Daryl was leading the caravan on his motorcycle, Carol and Sophia riding with Lori, Rick and Carl, while Dale, Shane, Andrea, T-Dog and Glenn rode in the RV. Carl and Sophia had talked about wanting to see the Grand Canyon, and Sophia had leaned her head contentedly on Carol's shoulder. Carol had rested her head on her daughter's head, savoring the moment. Here they were at the end of the world, but they still had each other.

When they'd found the traffic back up they'd slowed to a crawl, but at least they had still been moving. When the radiator hose on the RV finally went, there was nothing they could do but halt so that Dale could try to replace it. They _were_ surrounded by cars, so finding one they could use as a substitute seemed plausible. The idea of scavenging through the parked cars for other useable supplies while Dale worked took a bit of getting used to for some of them, but before long nearly everyone was spread out, looking for useful items in strangers' abandoned cars while they waited to move on.

It was lucky that Dale had seen the walkers coming. There were just a few at first, then suddenly more than they could count. There was just enough time for nearly everyone to duck under the cars or otherwise find cover. Andrea had a close call with a walker in the RV, and T-Dog had cut himself badly on a piece of metal, but overall it looked like they'd gotten through it. That is, until a walker had spotted Sophia. She'd done the only thing she could think of to do, she'd jumped over the guard rail at the edge of the highway and run into the trees, now with two walkers behind her. Rick had gone after her without hesitation, as the rest of the group stood helplessly by the guard rail.

Lori had grabbed Carol from behind and held on to her, hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, when they had first run up to the edge of the highway, but slowly she relaxed her grip on her friend and just stood close to Carol, rubbing her arm soothingly. There was no way she could comfort her and she knew it. As a mother herself, she knew that there was nothing she could say to stop Carol from being sick with worry while her daughter was being chased through the woods by walkers, even if Rick was out there as well. Lori coaxed Carol to at least sit down on the ground in front of the guard rail, because she looked like she might fall down if she didn't. Slowly, the others drifted away one by one, unable to help by standing there, and now looking warily in the distance in all directions. They went back to scavenging nearby cars for supplies, the only useful activity they could think of to fill the time.

It took what felt like a long time, but Carol's breathing slowly became more regular, though she continued whimpering quietly, and tears kept slipping down her cheeks. Lori didn't press her to talk, just sat next to her and occasionally whispered soothing sounds, rubbing her back or patting her hand. They sat that way as the sun moved slowly across the sky. No more walkers appeared, and the other members of the group continued making small but mostly unimportant discoveries in the cars around them.

Lori was just beginning to feel that she couldn't sit on the hard ground much longer when she heard footsteps not too far behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Daryl nearby, peering into the woods in the direction where Sophia and Rick had run. She got to her feet and beckoned him over, not quite knowing what to expect from the somewhat antisocial man, but since he was the only one there, he would have to do.

Daryl wasn't sure what Lori wanted him there for. He was no good in this kind of situation, and Lori never spoke to him if she could avoid it. He made his way over slowly to where the women sat, as he saw Lori start towards him. She met him a few feet from where Carol was sitting.

Lori turned away from Carol and spoke in a low voice. "Daryl, I need to check on Carl and stretch my legs, can you… stay with her for a while?" she waved her hand toward Carol, who was still sitting on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking herself slightly. He ignored the condescending tone in Lori's voice, which was always there when she spoke to him. She wasn't the only one who talked to him that way. He nodded once at Lori and walked past her without a word. It didn't really matter to him what Lori thought of him, he wasn't doing this for _Lori_, anyway. He felt awkward about approaching Carol, but agreed that she shouldn't be left to sit alone right now. Interestingly enough, he'd been coming over to check on her anyway, but he just hadn't known if he should approach her with Lori there.

He walked slowly and deliberately forward and stepped carefully over the guard rail, looking down at her on the ground. She didn't seem to notice him at first, her gaze still fixed on the woods. In his right hand he held a water bottle, not quite full, and he bent down and set it in front of her, since her hands were clenched in her lap. He had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, remembering the last time he'd brought her water, not so very long ago, just after she'd taken a pick axe to her dead husband's head and then sat staring out at the trees. _Woman has some goddamn bad luck_, he thought to himself.

"Water," he said quietly to get her attention. His voice was gravely but at the same time very gentle. It surprised even him. He was fairly sure he'd never heard that voice before, except possibly when he'd brought her water the last time.

"Thank you," she whispered, not taking her eyes off the trees, or moving to touch the water bottle.

He sighed slightly, lowering himself to the ground on her left, shrugging off his crossbow and laying it beside his left hand. He didn't know what to say, but couldn't help but feel like he had to say _something_. There was just something about seeing this fragile woman, who he barely knew, get upset… he couldn't explain why, but he didn't like it.

She knew he felt uncomfortable. It was pretty obvious, and normally she would have happily made conversation with him. He was rough around the edges, but she liked Daryl. There was something comforting about him, though she couldn't put her finger on it. This time, however, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She didn't really need him to say anything, even though she could tell that he wanted to. Even before he had spoken at all, she'd felt calmer just having him sit beside her. She appreciated the concern behind Lori's presence, but Lori didn't have a calming effect on Carol. If anything, for some reason Lori made her more anxious, though she'd never tell her friend that.

"She's gonna be OK, ya know that? Right?" His voice came out as the same rough but gentle rumble that it had before. At first he didn't think she heard him, because she didn't respond right away.

She _had_ heard him, but his gentle words had almost made her fall apart all over again, and it was all she could do to keep herself together. She took a few deep breaths before she trusted herself to respond at all.

After a pause, Daryl heard Carol exhale suddenly, and turned to see her nod her head quickly, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks. It was killing him that he couldn't do anything for her.

Then he realized why this was bothering him so much. Suddenly he was thinking back to the time when he was nine and _he_ had been lost in the woods. No one had even been there to notice he was missing, much less to try to find him. He'd been a tough kid though, even at nine, having been accustomed to rough treatment at the hands of his father and older brother, Merle. At first the woods had seemed like a great escape from the harshness of his life, but being out there alone without food or water or… anything or anyone… even _he_ hadn't been tough enough not to be scared.

This girl Sophia, she wasn't tough. She was sweet, you could tell from looking at her, and now there were walkers after her, and she was alone and scared. He tried to push the thought out of his head before _he_ got upset as well. This situation was striking a nerve with him, and it wouldn't help her if he was rattled.

"You should have some water," he told her quietly. She bobbed her head a few times before finally picking up the water bottle and opening it to take a drink.

"Always bringing me water, huh?" she asked him in a soft and almost expressionless voice, as she replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the ground. Her eyes had still not left the treeline.

_So I'm not the only one having déjà vu right now_, he thought_._

"Well, I guess someone's gotta," he replied. He had noticed that everyone else seemed to take her help for granted, even her "friend," Lori. No one seemed to notice that she always put herself last. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually would have noticed in people – he'd always pretty much hated most people – but for some reason he _had_ noticed it about her.

"Thanks," she whispered, still not looking at him.

He wanted to get up and run then, he wasn't good with people or talking or emotions, and he didn't know what else to say or do. Feelings – pretty much any kind – made him downright uncomfortable. He usually avoided them whenever possible, and used those opportunities to stalk into the woods to be alone and think, calm himself down.

Glancing around for Lori or one of the others to come and sit with Carol, he saw that no one else was nearby. He decided that he would fight the urge to run, despite what his instincts were telling him. If it had been anyone else, he would never have been sitting here in the first place. But there was something about this woman. He found himself acting like a different person around her. A _better_ person. Somehow he knew it wouldn't be right to leave her sitting there alone.

After what seemed like an eternity, they saw Rick emerge from the trees – and Daryl watched helplessly as Carol's face clearly showed her heart breaking all over again, because Rick was alone.


	9. Tears

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead. I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: I've been working hard trying not to put too much "cute" into these early chapters, despite how much I love cute "Caryl" stories. It's hard, knowing how deep their connection goes by season 5, trying not to overdo it in the first few seasons. Of course, it's impossible to say exactly how they felt and when, so I hope you don't mind if I maybe overdo it **_**just a little**_**, though my goal is really to get it right. Creative license is the fun of fanfic, right? **

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, afternoon**

After what seemed like an eternity, they saw Rick emerge from the trees – and Daryl watched helplessly as Carol's face clearly showed her heart breaking all over again, because Rick was alone.

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but she ended up collapsing forward on her knees. Her cries were gut wrenching. Everyone else was hurrying toward Rick, eager for news, as he walked toward them shaking his head. Carol was still beside Daryl, who hadn't moved to get up. Overcome with emotion, she had now crouched forward on her hands and knees while heaving sobs came from within her with such force that she couldn't have stopped them if she had tried.

He felt like he was in the eye of the storm. It was horrible, the chaos that was happening around him, what Carol was undoubtedly feeling, and yet somehow, he was still. _Someone_ needed to be. He leaned forward and, as if powered by some external force, his hand reached up and planted itself in the middle of her back, just holding still there. Through his hand, he could feel the sobs that shook her body, but within seconds he felt them begin to lessen ever so slightly.

He had no idea what had possessed him to reach for her, because it was something that he would never have done voluntarily in a million years. If anything, at any other time his immediate, involuntary reaction to any form of touch would be to recoil as if he had been scalded. The scars on his body were painful reminders of the times that he hadn't been able to move away fast enough from his father in his childhood, and his aversion to touch was the lasting result.

Carol felt the weight of Daryl's hand on her back. She was surprised, as he didn't seem like the type to do something like that, even to comfort someone who was so frantically upset. She had noticed that he didn't even seem to like to make conversation with anyone, much less console them, and definitely not touch them. She had specifically heard him mumble the word "assholes" under his breath on more than one occasion when other people were around, which made her smile, though she couldn't explain why. She wouldn't have used that word about anyone, of course, but for some reason she found it funny when he did.

Despite the fact that he seemed so unfriendly most of the time, she liked Daryl well enough, for someone she didn't really know of course. There was something about him, as if they just understood each other somehow, though they had barely ever spoken. Because of this, she was fairly certain that he would rather have been anywhere _but_ besides a sobbing woman. Still, there he was, and there was his hand resting between her shoulder blades. It was as if that warmth was the only thing keeping her connected with the world around her, which had seemed to have all but disappeared when she saw Rick emerge from the trees without Sophia. Even before she had shut her eyes and began to cry again, her vision had narrowed to the few inches directly in front of her. Everything else was simply… gone.

Rick approached her, looking at the ground. He crouched down in front of her, determined to keep his voice calm and even, for her sake.

"Carol," he almost whispered. She was still sobbing, though not as loudly or as deeply as before. "Carol, let me tell you what happened out there. I found her. She was OK…"

Upon hearing this, Carol looked up for the first time, sliding back to a kneeling position and looking desperately at Rick. He had said she _was_ OK, past tense… _Oh God,_ she thought, bracing herself for what he would say next.

"I caught up to her. The two walkers were still coming after her. I told her to hide in a hollow spot along a creek, behind some roots from the tree growing above it. I had to draw them away from her so I could kill them."

"You left her there?" Carol whispered, shocked.

"_I had to draw them away from her_," Rick repeated emphatically. "It was the only thing I could do, I was by myself. And I _did_ draw them away, down the creek a ways. I told her to stay there, that I'd come back and get her. I told her that if I _didn't _come back, she should run back here to y'all. Told her to keep the sun on her left shoulder." Rick felt guilt eating him up inside, though he knew he couldn't have done any differently. He truly felt for this woman, and he hated that he'd come back without her daughter. This kind of thing had been one of the worst parts of his job as a Sheriff's Deputy back in his former life.

Carol continued to stare at him, wide-eyed. She wasn't sobbing. Her body was still, but tears ran down her cheeks and she didn't try to stop them or wipe them away. Daryl's hand was still on her back – Rick and the others who had gathered around hadn't failed to notice this – without which, she felt certain that she would have collapsed again. It was like the small amount of strength required to remain upright was being pumped into her through his hand.

Daryl's eyes remained on Carol. There was nothing he could do for her, and he hated it. Normally this kind of frustration would have sent him barreling straight into the woods, but there he still was, glued to that spot by the highway. Something had told him that he was needed right where he was. It wasn't a feeling he was familiar with, or even comfortable with, but he was going to do the right thing. Though it was unfamiliar, there was a certain feeling of warmth to being needed, and he found that at least in this instance, he didn't hate it.

"As soon as I'd killed the walkers, I went back to the spot I'd left her, but she was gone," Rick concluded. There was anguish in his voice. "I had hoped that meant she'd made it back here. I'm sorry, Carol. I haven't given up, though."

That was when Daryl decided to speak up. Looking up at Rick, he said, "Hell, no! I can track her. Can ya show me the spot where ya left her?"

Suddenly there were many pairs of eyes on him all at once as everyone turned to look at him hopefully, which was something he wasn't used to. People didn't usually expect much from him. They had seen him bring in squirrels, rabbits and an occasional deer from his hunts when they were camped, but aside from an occasional "thank you" from whoever he handed them to upon his return – and it was usually Carol, who did most of the cooking – they seemed to take for granted that he would leave the camp and then reappear a few hours later with meat. They didn't really think about the skills that something like hunting required.

"Yeah, no problem," Rick replied.

"Alright then, the hell are we waiting for?" Daryl mumbled. His eyes were still on Rick, but the hand that had been on Carol's back slid to her left shoulder and gave the tiniest of squeezes before he removed it, leaned over to grab his crossbow from his other side and stood up. This movement happened so quickly that Carol herself almost missed it. She suddenly realized exactly how much his hand had been supporting her when he removed it, and she had to lean her own hand against the ground for stability. She eased herself back down so that she was sitting cross legged, then leaned back against the guard rail post for support. Daryl and Rick were talking about something related to the search, but she couldn't even focus on what they were saying. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She needed for this all to go away, to wake up from what was surely a terrible nightmare. It just _had _to be.

"Carol?" It was Rick again. Carol opened her eyes weakly and tried to focus on the two men in front of her. "We're leaving now. We'll do everything we can to bring her back, OK? I promise."

Carol found that she didn't have the energy left to do anything but nod her head ever so slightly. A sob threatened to escape and she pushed it back down, resulting in a quick intake of breath.

"Shane, Glenn, we could use the two of you as well." Both men nodded and stepped forward, ready to help. He looked back at the rest of the group. "Y'all stay safe here. Keep your eyes open. We'll be back," Rick told them, glancing at each of them in turn before turning around. Daryl had been watching Carol while Rick talked. She looked up at him then, their eyes momentarily locked, and he nodded at her once, as he had done before. Then he turned around and followed Rick, Shane and Glenn into the trees, the four of them suddenly gone from view.

The group knew that there would be no moving Carol from that spot. Everyone looked around nervously, not quite sure of what to do next. Dale climbed back up the ladder to the top of the RV to keep watch. T-Dog rested nearby, still in pain from his injury when the walkers had come through. Andrea retreated to the RV to continue practicing the correct assembly of her gun.

Lori sat down on one side of Carol, and Carl made himself comfortable on the other. Lori saw the water bottle sitting beside her, glad that Daryl had thought to give it to her. "You should drink something," she told her friend. Carol nodded slowly, picking up the bottle as if moving in slow motion and thinking of the last time she'd been told that, earlier that afternoon. It felt like a lifetime ago. Daryl had been there, his mere presence calming her, before Rick had returned empty handed and…

Carol stopped her thoughts from finishing that sentence. She dropped the bottle back to the ground as she suddenly pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and put her head down between her knees. Why wouldn't this horrible scene just disappear? She wanted to wake up from this nightmare, because that was obviously what this was.

Lori and Carl were both momentarily startled by her sudden movement and looked at her in surprise. She had been so still, and then had suddenly moved so quickly. Carl looked confusedly over Carol to his mother, who just shook her head sadly, putting her arms around the little ball Carol had curled herself into and held on. Carl tentatively rubbed Carol's back below where Lori's arm held her, the way his mother did when _he_ was upset. He figured it usually made him feel better, so maybe it would help. Lori smiled sadly at her son, recognizing the gesture.

They sat this way for a little while. Finally, Carol relaxed enough to sit up, and the other two leaned back, giving her some space. A little while before that, Glenn and Shane had returned to the highway, saying that Rick and Daryl were on Sophia's trail, but so far no one else had emerged from the trees. They were so focused on the woods that they were startled to hear loud creaks and groans of metal on metal from behind them on the road, and turned to see Glenn driving one of their working cars, slowly and deliberately using it to push disabled cars off of the road. There was no time to sit still, despite the heartache. That was their new reality.


	10. Rest

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, night**

Carol had been perched on or beside the guard rail at the edge of the highway since the moment Sophia had gone into the woods hours and hours ago. She hadn't left it for _anything_. Daryl had brought her water earlier, and Lori had attempted to get her to eat a few of the stale snacks they had found while rummaging through the cars around them, which Carol had refused, but mostly she had just been sitting at the edge of the interstate, staring at the trees and waiting anxiously for Sophia to stroll out of the woods. Then Rick and Daryl had returned at sunset, without her, and despite Carol's best efforts to remain composed, it had taken her only a few minutes before she fell apart all over again. The group had taken turns sitting beside her as the shadows grew longer, sometimes in silence, though mostly talking to her, trying to think of comforting words to murmur to her, but none of them really expected their efforts to be successful. What could you say to the mother of a twelve year old girl who was lost in the woods at night after the zombie apocalypse?

It was pitch black now, and the cicadas were chirping loudly all around them. Thankfully the moon was bright that night, though even still, it was very dark. The group was slowly growing accustomed to the blackness and stillness of the nights since there was no longer anything powered by electricity to break the quiet, but it still felt eerie. It had been especially unsettling since that night at their first camp, when the quiet had been immediately followed by their makeshift home being overrun by walkers.

Of course, it was safer for them to be inside the vehicles than out in the open in the dark. There was far less chance of being surprised by something or someone that might seem to appear out of nowhere. Despite this, Carol remained at her post, sitting on the guard rail. Nearly everyone had tried to get her to come inside and lie down, though no one actually expected her to sleep. Glenn had been the most recent one to try, and he was currently sitting beside her, having just made the same speech to her that nearly everyone else had done at some point in the past hour:

"It's not safe out here." _I don't care_, was always her response.

"You need to rest." _No, I'm fine, _she'd replied_._

"We're worried about you." _I'm not the one you should be worried about_, she'd said quickly_._

"Carol, _please…"_ She would just shake her head sadly. She'd given everyone who'd tried to make her budge more or less the same answers.

Glenn looked around helplessly. He knew that everyone else had failed as well, but he had still wished that he could help the woman who did so much for all of them. He saw Daryl walk slowly into his peripheral vision, and the younger man turned and shrugged his shoulders at him, as if to say _I don't know what else to do_. Daryl nodded in understanding, walking towards them and motioned with his head for Glenn to go back inside with the others. Daryl didn't figure he'd be any better at this than anyone else – probably much worse, since he'd never been any good with people – but there was no way he was going to leave Carol outside in the dark by herself, certainly not as upset as she was. He'd already failed to find her daughter, which made him feel guilty enough, he wasn't going to fail her again if he could possibly help it. He sat down beside her, the spot where Glenn had been only a moment before, the spot that all of the others but T-Dog had occupied at some point during the past few hours. He didn't know what to say, so they just sat in silence, but he didn't mind that. He'd never been a guy with a lot to say anyway.

Finally, after he'd started to wonder if she'd even noticed his presence, he saw her turn her head ever so slightly towards him, though her eyes were still on the trees, and whisper "You bring me water again?" If he didn't know better, he'd have said it sounded like she was teasing him, though there was nothing about her body language that suggested that that was the case whatsoever. On the contrary, she looked miserable, like she'd be the last person to say anything remotely funny. He wasn't sure how she'd meant it, so he wasn't sure how to respond.

He looked at her nervously. "Uh, nah… sorry." _Should _he have brought her water? It was true that no one else had probably thought to bring her any… He glanced down by her feet and could just barely make out the shape of the water bottle he'd brought her earlier, but he couldn't see whether it was empty or not. "I can get ya some if ya want."

She shook her head slightly. The corners of her lips tilted up just the tiniest bit, or maybe he was just seeing things in the dark. "No, sorry, just… teasing you," she whispered again. Now he could hear it in her tone, and he realized that she was trying her hardest to make him feel less awkward about being there. He shook his head ever so slightly at how backwards it seemed that _she_ was trying to make _him_ feel better. That was just who she was. After another minute she spoke again, never taking her eyes off the trees, once again in a whisper so quiet he almost didn't hear her. "So, you gonna tell me I need to come inside, too?"

He thought for a minute about the best way to respond. Of course, it would probably be best if she _did_ go in and rest, but telling her that flat out probably wouldn't work. There was a _reason_ she was sitting out here, and it was a damn good one. Besides, surely every single other person in the group had already said that to her, and she was still sitting here. Clearly a new approach was in order. "Nah, I figure you wanna stay right here and keep watch," he said softly. "Guess I would too if I were you…" She turned around then, pulling her eyes away from the trees for the first time in hours, surprise written all over her face. She was surprised by not just what he had said, but how he'd said it. He hadn't talked to her the same way the others had, as if they were talking to a frustrating child who was refusing to cooperate and that they knew better. There was understanding in his voice, and as rough as it was, it was gentle at the same time, just as it had been both times he had brought her water. "Though you gotta admit that you're gonna have to rest eventually. You can't keep going on like this too much longer."

She sighed, then after another pause, she started speaking, still at a whisper. "No one understands… I just can't go inside. What if she comes back and thinks no one's here? I won't be able to sleep anyway. How _could_ I? I might as well just stay here, where I can be useful." There were tears gathered in the corners of her eyes threatening to spill out at any second. When she looked down at her hands just then, two tears, one from each side, splashed down into her lap.

Daryl _really_ didn't want to see her cry again if he could help it. He didn't like to see _any _woman cry, but especially Carol. He'd felt protective of her even since he'd seen how her asshole husband had treated her back at the quarry. While his first instinct was just to get up and leave and therefore avoid seeing her cry, he knew that that wasn't even an option. He nodded his head slowly, an idea forming that he thought there was a small chance that she might go for. "What if," he began slowly, "I sit here 'n watch for her 'n you go in 'n lie down for an hour? Just an hour. Then you come back out. 'Cause you may not wanna hear it from me or anyone else, but you _do_ need to rest_._"

She didn't move, and she looked like she wanted to protest, to say no, but only for a split second. He could see her face just enough to be able to tell that her expression had changed, and that the wheels were turning in her head. "You'd do that for me? Are you sure?" she asked in awe. Years of living with Ed had made her almost forget that there were people in the world who were willing to be kind to her, and she still hadn't gotten used to the idea despite how kind he had been to her already.

He nodded at her. "Of course." He didn't really think she'd agree, but suddenly he saw her nod her head.

"Okay," she whispered. She got to her feet very slowly – he imagined that she must be very stiff after sitting in that same place most of the day – and stretched. Turning around to step over the guard rail, she swayed a little, and she put her hand on his shoulder lightly to steady herself. When he immediately recoiled, she yanked her hand away as if she had been burned. "Oh, sorry," she said quickly. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was doing her a favor.

"It's okay… just wasn't expecting it," he mumbled, looking at the ground. She scrambled over the guard rail, this time without touching him, and he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "Now you go lie down, a'ight?"

"I will. Thanks, Daryl," she promised in the same whispered tone. Then she added, "You gonna be okay out here?"

"Go lie down, then we'll trade," he repeated.

"Okay, okay, I'm going. And Daryl?"

"Mmmpf?" he grunted in response.

"_Thanks."_

"It ain't nothing. Besides, ya said that already."

"Well, it's not nothing to me. To me it's a big deal," she assured him quietly, then turned to walk toward the RV.

Sure, he hoped that Sophia would walk out of the woods all on her own, but he wasn't expecting it to happen, especially in the middle of the night. But if it made Carol feel better, he would sit here as long as he needed to. He figured – hoped – that Sophia had found _somewhere_ to hide, and that she was safe and asleep in her hiding place. He also hoped that Carol would at least lie down when she got inside the RV, maybe even close her eyes.

Daryl could've climbed up on top of the RV, where Dale was on watch, as usual, but he preferred to sit in silence and solitude. He knew it would've been safer up there, and the old man was alright, he guessed, but he had no desire to go out of his way to talk to him. Instead, he sat and stared at the woods, as Carol had done, trying to use his mind to will Sophia out of the forest. It wasn't working very well. His mind started to wander back to his days lost in the woods as a nine year old. How dark it had been at night, how every snap of a twig he heard had made him feel like a dangerous animal was sneaking up behind him. _And that was before there were walkers_. He cringed, his hands balled into fists. He hated that he had to sit here and do nothing while anything could be happening to that little girl, all because of the damn sun having set. The minutes seemed to drag on endlessly, and at last he stood and paced back and forth between the two support posts holding up the guard rail, about ten feet apart.

Once inside, Carol was met with looks of surprise from the rest of the group. After each one of them, with the exception of T-Dog, who had a fever, had tried to convince her to come in, it had been Daryl who had succeeded. More than a few of them found that odd, since he wasn't exactly known in the group for his warm and fuzzy demeanor. Still, they were just glad that someone had been able to get through to her. It was crowded inside the RV, even though Rick, Lori and Carl were sleeping in a nearby car, but they had agreed that Carol should go and lie down on the bed for however long she was able. She tried to protest weakly, but she had used up most of her energy on her vigil all day on the guard rail.

Finally, Andrea nearly pushed her to the bed, and in the end she didn't argue. As she lay down, far too many pairs of sympathetic eyes watched her expectantly. She wished that they would just go away and leave her in peace. She tried rolling onto her other side, so that she couldn't see them, and eventually she heard them begin to move around, to talk quietly, to do other things. It was a relief, because she didn't want their sympathy. If anything, it was making her more anxious, but she took a deep breath and reminded herself that they were being supportive in the only way they knew how.

As she lay there, Carol began to realize just what a toll the day had taken on her. Her mind was wide awake and screaming against laying down on a bed – how _could_ she, when her daughter was _lost in the woods? _– but she realized as she lay there just how physically exhausted she really was. Still, her mind was racing and she didn't think she'd ever sleep. It was like a tug of war. She found herself drifting in and out of consciousness. Each time she drifted off she saw and heard walkers swirling before her eyes, sometimes chasing Sophia, sometimes chasing her, sometimes just walking in herds through the trees, their grunts and groans growing louder and louder in her ears as they closed in, ready to tear into her flesh or that of her daughter. Eventually in each of these scenes something would startle her and she'd snap awake, her eyes flying open to find her staring at the wall of the RV, her face damp with sweat, her breathing heavy as if she'd been running for her life.

She tried to lie still when she awoke this way, didn't want to attract the others' attention in case they were sitting nearby, didn't want them to look at her like they had earlier – with pity. Finally, after going through this cycle countless times, she decided that she had had enough. She sat up on the bed, brought her feet to the floor and stretched. She saw T-Dog dozing against the side wall of the RV, sitting at the table. Glenn was in the front seat, with the seat leaned back and appearing to be fast asleep. Andrea had curled up in a little space on the floor. She didn't see the others, but she was sure they couldn't be far.

Picking her way gingerly around her friends, she descended the stairs as quietly she could, but the metal creaked in protest. Daryl had paced for a while during Carol's fitful sleep, but had gone back to the seat where he had started out his watch. When he heard the noise from the steps, he turned around and, seeing that it was her, he nodded solemnly as he often did. She walked slowly back to the guard rail, taking the same place where she'd been beside him earlier.

"You sleep any?" he asked her.

"A little, but not well," she replied in the same quiet voice as before, now a little hoarse with sleep.

"Better 'n nothin," he replied, nodding. They sat beside each other and looked at the trees for a minute before either of them spoke again.

"It's your turn," she said softly.

"Huh?" he asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

"It's your turn to go lie down," she reminded him.

"Mppppf," he grunted.

"Uh-uh, you promised," she countered, her voice just a little bit louder and very firm. He didn't move, so she tried something else. "I'm just guessing that you're planning to go out and look for Sophia again tomorrow, right?"

He nodded his head without speaking. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. _Dammit, she's as stubborn as I am,_ he thought.

"So you're gonna run all over the woods, probably all day long, tracking her without any sleep? That sounds even crazier than me trying to sit here on this guardrail all day and all night without sleeping. At least_ I_ was sitting down all day." He sighed and shook his head, knowing that she was right.

He exhaled loudly, showing his displeasure at her logical approach to why he should leave his seat beside her, but he didn't look annoyed. He heaved himself up to his feet, stretching his tired, sore muscles. He turned to climb over the guard rail, looking down at her and mumbling something that sounded like "G'night," and she pushed her mouth into as much of a smile as she could manage and looked back up at him. Her eyes were sad, but conveyed the appreciation she felt for him at that moment, or at least she hoped that they did. 

Daryl walked back toward the RV, and Carol recommenced her surveillance of the treeline. A new day would be starting soon enough.


	11. Emotions

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: I just want to say how much I love people who leave me reviews for this story (or any of my stories really)! This means that I have a LOT of love for Seerwood and HarryMakepeace, who I think have reviewed just about every chapter so far. I appreciate **_**everyone**_** who takes the time to leave me a comment. Those little notes totally make my day every single time (I get so excited, my husband looks at me like I'm crazy), so thank you!**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**A church in the woods with "no bells and no steeple," mid-day(ish)**

Today's search party was larger – everyone but T-Dog, whose fever had not abated, and Dale, who stayed back with him and kept watch, had joined in. They'd been following Daryl, who continued to track Sophia's trail through the woods, when they'd heard the sound of bells. Upon arriving at the small, white church, they wondered at the fact that this building didn't have any bells to ring. However, shortly after that they'd discovered the sound of bells playing on a recording, broadcast from a speaker on the wall outside, set on a timer. There was not a living soul at the church, just a few walkers sitting quietly inside, and they were quickly taken care of. Of course, the odds of finding _anyone_ alive there, much less Sophia, were slim to none, but it was a disappointment nonetheless. They all wanted to believe that by some miracle, Sophia would have been there.

As they stood outside the church after Glenn had stopped the bell sounds from playing, realizing that they were no closer to finding Sophia, there was an unspoken agreement amongst the group that they would take a few minutes' break. Carol announced that she was going to head back inside the church for a few minutes, and the others split off in various directions, no one going far.

The floor creaked as Carol walked inside, her footsteps echoing in the small, high ceilinged room. She walked slowly towards the altar at the front. As she did, Glenn appeared in the doorway behind her, stopping when he saw her. He hadn't been coming in for any particular reason, and before he had taken a step inside he decided that she might want to be alone. He turned and walked silently back down the stairs so that he didn't disturb her.

Carol stopped at the second row of pews, ducking into the bench on the left side of the aisle. She hadn't been devoutly religious in her former life, though she did believe in God. She had prayed _so many_ times for help during the years when she'd been married to Ed, and it seemed that most of those prayers had fallen on deaf ears. It had been hard to believe in God in those years, no matter how much she wanted to. Now Sophia had vanished, and she didn't know if continuing to pray was wasting her breath or not. She leaned forward, draping her arms over the pew in front of her, her hands hanging limp at the wrist, then laid her head down on her arms.

_How could it have come to this? _Everything had been bad enough, and now she had lost the _one thing_ in her life that was good.

Daryl hung back in the doorway, watching her. It had been pretty clear why she wanted a moment in the church, at least to him. He'd seen Glenn stop in the doorway and then tiptoe back down the steps, and he'd wondered if he should check on her or not. He of all people knew that sometimes you just needed time alone. However, he also knew that he didn't want her suffering alone if he could prevent it, and he felt like whenever he encountered her sitting alone, she always appeared to be suffering more than she did when he sat beside her. He figured the worst thing that could happen was she'd tell him to go away. This was new territory for him, caring about another person, but he wanted to give it his best shot. He'd waited a few minutes before venturing up the steps himself. Now he stood leaning against the doorframe, watching her sit hunched forward, her head down on her arms.

She choked back a sob and tried to stop the spiral of self-pity from starting. If she started, she didn't know if she'd be able to stop by the time the group needed to move on. She didn't want them to see her as weak, as a burden. It didn't matter that they said sympathetic things to her, said that they understood. She didn't want sympathy or pity. These days, everyone had lost someone, and lots of people had lost _everyone_. Most people had lost _everything_. She wasn't unique or special in any of these ways. What happened from now on was what the people who were still around chose to make happen, as much as their circumstances would allow, of course.

Logically, she knew that she had two options: she could let it all defeat her, which was the easier option, or she could keep going. _But how?_ How could she possibly keep going? What was left that was worth going on for? Of course she desperately hoped to find Sophia, and she wouldn't give up trying… _but what if they couldn't find her? Or what if they found her, and it was too late? _She had been weak for so long with Ed, and now he was gone and she wanted to be strong… but for what? If not for Sophia, then for who?

As he continued to stand in the doorway, he heard the sob that she tried to swallow. He hated that he still hadn't done the only thing that would take that pain away from her, which was to find Sophia. The guilt that he felt about that since the first time they had come back without her had only been getting worse with time. Gingerly, he started walking slowly up the aisle towards her, the floor creaking slightly under his weight. Carol didn't even look up.

She heard the creak of the floor to indicate that someone was walking towards her, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She hoped that whoever it was would see her and have the sense to know that she wanted to be left alone. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to be comforted, she didn't want to think. Really, she just wanted to sit here, with her eyes closed, and pretend that this world wasn't the way it was, just for a few more minutes before they had to move on. Of course she wasn't going to stop searching for her daughter until she found her, one way or another. But it was so exhausting to go on like this, and for just a minute she needed it all to stop.

He shuffled down the aisle slowly until he was standing only a few feet away from her. She was hunched into herself, and she looked so small sitting there like that. She was small compared to him anyway, but now she looked tiny. He took a few more steps towards her, until he was standing right beside her. She was sitting at the end of the pew, so there was no room for him to sit down beside her like he wanted to.

She'd heard the creaking of the floor and had ignored the footsteps until it became clear that they weren't going to go away, but that they were coming closer and closer. From the stride as well as the faint smell when the footsteps got closer, she realized that it was Daryl. She was glad it was him, because he was the only person whose presence she could tolerate right now. More than tolerate. Even before she had moved her head off of her arms, she felt relief knowing that he was there.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, figuring that even if she didn't know it was him, she'd know that someone was there. She slowly turned so that the side of her head was still leaning against her arms, as if she were too tired to lift her head. She looked up at him, her face almost expressionless. She just looked… defeated.

"C'mon, scoot over," he said softly.

If it had been anyone else, she would have gotten up and walked out rather than sit there beside them, no matter how rude it might have seemed. However, she had learned in the past few days that she liked to have him sitting beside her. As miserable as she was, things seemed a little less bleak when he was around. She didn't know why, and she wasn't used to that feeling. For as long as she could remember, the only one whose presence had ever had that effect on her was Sophia. Having anyone close to her had just made her nervous, either because she was afraid they would react the way Ed did around her, or because she had been afraid of how Ed would react when he realized that someone had been near her, no matter who it was or what the reason was. No, it had certainly been easier to keep her distance from people.

Now Ed was gone and she didn't have to worry about _his_ reactions, but old habits died hard. Which was why it was so mysterious to her why Daryl's presence had never bothered her, how it actually calmed her. If he had moved suddenly, she would definitely still have flinched involuntarily, but in all of the interactions with him so far that she could remember, he hadn't.

She'd been lost in her thoughts and hadn't moved when he'd asked her to, but he could see that hadn't really heard him. He stood there another minute, then added "I ain't gonna bite ya."

She raised her head, remembering that he was there, and looked at him questioningly. "Scoot _over,_ woman," he repeated. His tone wasn't impatient, or harsh or anything that gave her cause for alarm. Just the opposite, actually. She moved down the smooth wood seat, making room for him to sit beside her. He took his crossbow off of his back, resting it gently on the outside of the pew, and slumped down on the seat next to her. She sighed heavily and leaned her head in her hands, her elbows leaning on her knees. She sat that way for a minute before she sighed again, leaning back and matching his posture in the seat. Somehow, things seemed just a little less hopeless when he was sitting next to her.

"I just…" she started, but trailed off. She couldn't even form a thought to explain any of it, though she did want to.

They were both staring forwards at the altar. He'd never been religious - didn't exactly come from that kind of family – but there was something calming about sitting here in the church. He couldn't decide if it was the effect of the church, or of the person sitting next to him, or both. He nodded, because even though he didn't know what she was trying to say, at some level he did.

"'T's okay… er, I mean, it ain't now, but it will be."

She exhaled gently and smiled just a little at his awkward attempt to comfort her. God, _she_ didn't even know what she was talking about, so how could _he_ hope to know, much less to understand? And how could he hope to say the right thing when there was really no right thing to say? There was nothing to make her feel better short of finding her daughter, and yet here he was, the most awkward member of the group, sitting beside her despite his _obvious_ discomfort, trying to make her feel better. _The poor guy is fighting a losing battle here,_ she thought to herself.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes and she began to wonder… why _was_ he trying so hard? Her curiosity finally got the best of her and she couldn't sit and wonder any longer. _Oh, what the hell? _she thought. _I may as well ask._

"Why do you… care so much?" she whispered. "About Sophia? About…" She couldn't bring herself to add the word "me" to her question, because despite his kindness to her, she couldn't actually believe that there _was_ any reason for him to care about her. Why would he? Why would _anyone_? Having been told for years how worthless she was had made her believe it. She saw herself only as a broken woman with a daughter she'd failed to take care of. No, she couldn't see anything in herself worth caring about.

"About Sophia? No kid deserves to be out alone in the woods. Happened to me when I was little, 'n I was tough, but I was still scared… 'n there weren't even no walkers back then. Just hate to think about her like that."

Carol's eyes were immediately filled with tears again and Daryl wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. "Sorry," he mumbled. Carol shook her head, wiping a few stray tears off her cheeks quickly with her fingertips.

"Don't be sorry," she said softly through her tears. "I wish there were more people in the world like you." Her compliment caught him off guard, and he almost choked, trying his best to swallow the sound before it escaped from him. He'd been told for his whole life that he was a piece of shit, redneck trash, or worse, by his own father and by the rest of the world. The only person who'd ever been kind to him had been his mother, but she had died long ago. Even in their current, raggedy band of misfit survivors, he could feel how the others looked down on him. Daryl Dixon just didn't _do_ feelings if it could be avoided. He didn't really know how. The only thing he knew to do was to get away from people, go into the woods until whatever the feelings were – he didn't even really know how to identify them – had subsided.

He could feel himself blushing, and he looked down at his hands, not taking the chance that she was looking at him. He was extremely uncomfortable then, though not in a bad way. It may have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. He mumbled something she couldn't understand, but she could see that her words had left him flustered. It was a minute or two before his face stopped feeling so hot and he was calm enough to speak again.

"And about you?" He was starting to get used to this soft voice that only seemed to come out of him when he was talking to her. Having recovered from the unexpected compliment, he didn't want her to think he had ignored the second part of her question, even if she hadn't been able to get it out. The fact that she had swallowed the last word told him just how very similar they really were. Yes, he was uncomfortable as _hell_ right now, but the least he could do was to say something nice after what she'd just said to him. Anyway, what he wanted to say was the truth, and she should know it.

"What _about _me?" She looked up at him in surprise, having completely forgotten the other half of her question when he'd talked about Sophia so kindly.

"Ya asked me why I cared," he said simply. She almost gasped, surprised that it had been so obvious that she'd been talking about herself, and embarrassed that she'd just _assumed _that he did care about her in some way, even though she felt like he did. She should've kept her mouth shut. She should never have assumed that, and she certainly shouldn't have asked him. She was mortified.

"No, I… I mean… it's… don't…" She could no longer form a whole thought. Now they were _both _looking at their hands nervously. She suddenly felt a bit sick, her stomach contracting more with each passing second. She leaned forwards and put her head back in her hands, so she couldn't see him at all. She was going to die of embarrassment right there, she was fairly certain.

Now she was acting like he _felt_, which struck him as funny. He smiled at her even though she couldn't see him. "Hey, _stop._" He paused before continuing, not believing he was about to say this. How did this keep happening when he was around her?

"I just… I know what it's like… what that asshole was doin to ya? I been there. Ain't no one deserves that. 'M glad he's gone, so I don't hafta kill 'em myself. I wanted to, back at the quarry. Just didn't know _what_ to do…" He stopped, checking for her reaction. She had taken her hands away from her face, but she was still looking down at them in her lap. She was taking deep breaths and her face full of tension, maybe sadness and yet… the tiniest hint of a smile. "Ya always think of everyone before yourself, so it just seems like someone should watch out for _you_."

She let out something between a laugh and a sob, tears slipping down her cheeks again. For a split second she looked up at him and their eyes met, as she put her hand over her mouth to try to disguise how shocked she was at what he'd just said. She felt so many things at the same time, she couldn't begin to identify them all.

Daryl had had about all her could take of emotions, his _and_ hers, and he stood up suddenly, grabbed his crossbow from the floor and strode back down the aisle of the church. He'd meant what he'd said, but now he needed to get out of there, to breathe, to be alone for a few minutes before they'd have to start moving in a group again.

Carol sat in silence, tears continuing to fall down her cheeks.

_Sophia should be here to see this_, she thought. _To see that not everyone was like her father, to see someone show her kindness so that she didn't always have to feel afraid._

And then her tears began again, though they had never really stopped. She tried to steady herself, stood up, and walked closer to the altar at the front of the church.

She stood there looking at it for what felt like a very long time. Eventually, she heard footsteps behind her by the door. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rick, Carl, Glenn and Daryl standing against the back wall of the church, and Lori walking down the aisle toward her. She stood by the altar, ignoring the others, to have a talk with God before it was time to leave… she needed to make a plea for her little girl.


	12. Why?

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's note: Thank you for your reviews, Poppy P and Seerwood! Poppy P, also thank you so much for pointing out that Daryl was standing at the back of the church in the scene on the show that supposedly immediately follows the one I wrote as chapter 10. I try to keep the details true to the show as much as possible, and it only required one small update to reconcile this with the fact that Daryl had just walked OUT of the church at the end of my chapter.**

**I never know exactly where these chapters are going to go when I start writing them, and rereading this one now, I realize this may be less of a deleted scene and more of an inner monologue from Daryl… but it wasn't part of the show, so I'm counting it as a "Deleted Scene." I think it works. At least, I hope so. I'd love to know what everyone thinks! :)**

**Season 2, episode 1**

**Outside of the "church in the woods with no bells and no steeple," still mid-day(ish)**

Daryl had had about all her could take of emotions, his _and_ hers, and he stood up suddenly, grabbed his crossbow from the floor and strode back down the aisle of the church. He'd meant what he'd said when she'd asked him why he cared, both about Sophia and about _her_, but now he needed to get out of there, to breathe, to be alone for a few minutes before they'd have to start moving in a group again.

A few of the others who were near the entrance looked up in surprise as he came bursting out of the doors of the church. He wasn't running, but he was definitely moving with purpose. Everyone had noticed that Daryl, who you'd call anti-social on his best days, would sit and talk with Carol for far longer than he would talk with anyone else, so it wasn't so much a surprise to them that he'd been in there sitting with her. They _were_ surprised by how fast he exited. What could have happened? Still, as a group they'd all grown relatively used to each other and everyone's moods in the relatively short time they'd been living together. There were lots of times where the reasons for Daryl's behavior weren't clear to anyone, so they were more curious than concerned.

Daryl walked quickly down the stairs and kept going. He passed through the small cemetery before he reached the trees. Once there, his pace slowed. The trees were thin here, and he had no intention of going out of sight of the others. He didn't want them to panic, thinking he was abandoning them. He put down his crossbow beside him and leaned back against one of the bigger trees, facing away from the church to give himself the allusion of being farther away from the group than he actually was. Though the tree was one of the larger ones here, it was narrower than his body, so he guessed that Rick and the others would still be able to see him there. He would rather have been farther from them, but as long as their kept their distance this would be far enough away for him to cool down. He slid his back down along the tree until he was sitting on the ground.

Only now was his breathing returning to normal. He thought back to what had happened in there. Carol had been lost in thought when he'd gone in, and at first she hadn't even registered that he was there. Or had she heard the sound of the floorboards and ignored them? The floor on the aisle of the church creaked pretty loudly, but given her current state, he couldn't assume that she'd heard the noise. Had she been expecting him to check on her, or had she thought it was someone else? Would she have _preferred _that it had been someone else? He didn't _think_ so, based on the past few days, but you could never be sure with people. She'd looked up at him kindly, as if glad to see him, he was sure of that. But would she have looked at him differently if she _hadn't _been glad to see him? Carol was so kind and patient and polite to everyone, how could he be sure that she hadn't just been humoring him? This was already so confusing, his head was spinning a little, and he leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes.

Then he'd asked her to move over. It would have been so much easier if she hadn't been sitting right up against the aisle, he'd just have sat down beside her quietly like usual. He'd even had to ask her a few times, though he was pretty sure the only reason she hadn't moved was because she'd been lost in thought, not because she didn't want him there. He might not be good with people – okay, that much was a given – but he had noticed that in all the times that she'd been upset and he'd sat down beside her, it _seemed _to him that she'd suddenly relaxed a little when she'd known he was there. He had definitely noticed that sitting beside her relaxed _him_, anyway.

Why was that? People had always made him anxious. Either they wanted something from him, they wanted to hurt him somehow, or they just generally brought trouble with them. It'd been like that all his life, but since the world had become such a different place other people had become even more dangerous. He couldn't trust _anyone_ he didn't know anymore – even less than he had before the world had ended, and that hadn't been much. He had to rely on the people in his group for the basics of survival – since he couldn't always watch his own back, for example when he was sleeping – and he hated it. No, it was better not to rely on people if he could absolutely avoid it.

So why, then, did Carol have the exact opposite effect on him than everyone else did? Everyone else made him anxious, uncomfortable, claustrophobic even, but when he was around her, he usually felt calm... except when she said things that flustered him of course. Yes, there'd been quite a few times lately when he didn't know the right thing to say to her – most of them, actually, because what do you say to someone whose abusive husband has been eaten by walkers? And then on top of that, what do you say to that same person when her twelve year old daughter runs into the forest being chased by walkers and doesn't come back? But even when words seemed completely insufficient, he could just sit there next to her comfortably. She didn't seem to always need to talk. Some of the time she actually didn't _want_ to talk, which helped. He could definitely relate to that feeling. But for whatever reason, she seemed like she _liked_ talking to him, not like she was doing it because she felt like she _had_ to, or because she was uncomfortable with silence, like the rest of those idiots.

Once he'd finally been sitting next to her in the church, she'd been a little fidgety, but seemed to settle down somewhat after a minute or so. She'd been trying to explain something to him, but didn't seem to be able to put it into words. He'd kinda gotten it though. With everything he'd just watched her go through in addition to what _all_ of them were going through, no wonder she was overwhelmed. He'd tried to think of something helpful to say, and he'd just managed one awkward sentence. Nothing earthshattering, pretty dumb, really, something about how everything would be okay – which really, if they were thinking straight, they should know wasn't true in the world they were living in – but she had smiled, and that was all that had mattered.

That was when she'd asked him a serious question, out of nowhere. His stomach tightened a little bit just remembering it. It'd been a double question, really, though based on her reaction, he suspected that the second part had come out by accident. _Why did he care so much about Sophia?_ He could ask himself the same thing… Why _did_ he? When he considered it now, upon reflection, it seemed simple. She had always seemed like a sweet enough kid, not that he had any experience with kids, other than having been one. She'd always been quiet and shy and polite, sticking to her mother like glue most of the time. He felt for her because he could clearly see the situation she was growing up in, though it seemed like Carol had been taking the brunt, if not all, of her husband's abuse to spare her daughter. Still, he felt for the kid. Her father reminded him too much of his own father. Then, she'd run into the woods to escape those two walkers. _He'd_ been alone in the woods for days, way back in the day, and it had been scary. He'd been cold and hungry and alone. He hadn't even had to worry about walkers. So this poor kid had already had a hard enough life, and now this? How could he _NOT _have cared about her?

He'd felt bad, after explaining why he cared about Sophia, that he'd made Carol cry again, and at first he'd thought that he'd made things worse. But these tears were different somehow. She almost smiled as they fell, shaking her head in disbelief. That's when she'd said it.

_I wish there were more people in the world like you_.

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had said _anything_ nice about him, much less something like that. He literally hadn't been able to speak for several minutes, and he'd blushed about as deeply as it was possible to blush. What could he possibly say to that? He had no idea how to take a compliment, so he'd just stared at his hands.

Thinking back now, he cringed a little at the next part of the conversation, still unable to believe the words had come from his mouth. He, Daryl Dixon, who didn't do feelings if they could possibly be avoided, had told her that he cared about her. He could have ignored that part of the question – she certainly seemed like she wished he had, which, along with the fact that she'd never actually finished it, was why he suspected that it had slipped out by accident. But when it came right down to it, he realized that he _did_ care about her. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have spent so much time sitting by her side lately, trying to make sure she was alright. She had been through so much, both before he'd even met her, and then so much more lately. He felt intensely guilty that he'd failed to find Sophia for several days now, and it seemed like the least he could do was to say something that he thought would comfort her, even if it made him intensely _un_comfortable.

When he thought about it, it wasn't surprising that they seemed to understand each other so well. They had so much in common, so much of the same damage. He was probably the person who could best understand what she'd been through, and vice versa. And yet, it was a wonder to him that she'd come through it all so opposite from him. While he shied away from people, she seemed to need them. Both of them had suffered so much abuse that any tiny kindness from anyone felt, to both of them, like a gift which they were completely unworthy of receiving.

He heard voices behind him, and remembered that he wasn't far from the little white church with no steeple. That the group would need to move on soon. His short time in the woods, even if he was just barely away from the others, had done him good. He stood up and brushed himself off, lifted his crossbow back onto his back, and walked quickly back toward the building and the others. He saw Lori, Carl, Rick and Glenn disappear through the church doors, and he tiptoed in behind them to be sure everything was alright.

To be sure that Carol was alright.


	13. Sunset

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Just when I'd been feeling a little bit unsure about the last few chapters, a few new reviewers cropped up in the past few days and blew me away with their kind words. I'm blushing, seriously! Thanks once again to ALL of the people who've written me reviews!**

**Season 2, episode 2**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, sunset**

It was the end of yet another day, and still there had been no sign of Sophia. Lori, Rick, Shane, Glenn and T-Dog were now at the Greene Family's farm along with Carl, who was fighting to survive after being accidentally shot. That left Dale, Andrea, Daryl and Carol staying on the highway for another night, hoping against hope that they would reunite with Sophia before they too had to abandon that spot. Earlier that day, when Carol had adamantly declared that she would _not_ leave this "home base" yet, this spot on the highway that she still hoped that Sophia would somehow return to, Daryl had immediately backed her up, saying that the next day would be soon enough to set out for the farm. No one wanted to think about the possibility that she wouldn't have been found by then.

So here they were, watching another breathtaking sunset from what looked like the setting of a disaster movie, except that they were _living_ that movie. Dale was perched atop the RV where he was, as usual, keeping watch. Andrea was up there too, for a change. While she was often annoyed with the old man's paternal, and what she felt to be an overly protective, attitude towards her, she had decided to keep him company for a while. Daryl wasn't ever much for talking, not that she knew where he was anyway, and Carol was pacing along the road, distracted with worry, so Andrea's choices for company this evening were quite limited.

Carol was indeed pacing along the guard rail, unable to sit still, but having nothing constructive to actually _do _to keep her busy. The endless waiting, hoping, and mostly, _thinking_ was agonizing for her. She wished she could turn off her brain, but it hummed with activity every second of the day and night. Sometimes the noise – not an actual sound, just her busy, swirling thoughts – made her dizzy. If she managed to fall asleep at night, which didn't happen often, she was assaulted by even more thoughts. The ones in her dreams, however, were even more terrifying. She could clearly see Sophia being devoured by walkers, beaten by Ed, chased through the woods by any number of demons… and those were just the dreams that made sense. There were others, equally terrifying but more confusing, that were just flashes of images, sounds, feelings… a mixture of things that she recognized from both her old life and this new hell she was trapped in, jumbled together with things she couldn't identify. The result was understandable: Carol tried her best not to fall asleep. As painful as it was to be awake and aware of what was going on, at least she had some control over her mind and her thoughts as long as she was conscious.

Daryl had been in the woods for the past hour or so. He'd known that he should stay with the others, since there were only four of them together at the moment, and of those four, he knew that he was really the only one equipped to handle walkers. Still, he'd needed a little time alone. He still wasn't used to being around people this much, and it was exhausting to him. He hadn't expected to find any new traces of Sophia, especially so close to the area where they'd made "camp," (if you could call it that, which he didn't, really) but he figured it couldn't hurt to be keeping his eyes open while he was out there.

He emerged from the trees not far from where Carol was pacing with only the tiniest rustle of leaves around him, so quietly that since she wasn't facing his direction at that moment, she didn't know he was there. When she turned to pace the other direction and saw him, she was momentarily startled, the look on her face a mixture of surprise, fear, hope and disappointment all in one split second.

" 'S just me," he whispered. She nodded quickly and continued pacing. He walked slowly back towards the guard rail, watching her silently, then stepped over the rail and stopped. Eventually her pacing brought her to the spot where he stood, still watching her intently.

"Ya okay?" he asked in a low rumble as she stopped a few feet in front of him and sighed. She looked up at him, her face drawn and exhausted, and nodded her head once. "Sorry, dumb question," he mumbled. She didn't respond, just stared off in the distance over his shoulder. He stood there, knowing that she was lost in thought, and thinking that she really shouldn't have been out here in the gathering darkness in this state, where she was so oblivious to her surroundings, even with Dale and Andrea supposedly on watch. They couldn't watch all directions at once, after all.

"So, ya wearin' a path along the guard rail?" he asked.

"Guess so," she replied, her eyes suddenly focusing on him again. "Nothing else to do," she added sadly.

"Gonna be dark soon, so we should stay on the road, but we can walk a little ways and back if ya want…" he offered. He had a flashlight, just in case. He knew the feeling of needing to move, to do something when there was nothing else you could do - he imagined that was why she'd been pacing – but he didn't want her going off by herself. At least she'd had the sense to stay close to the others.

"Yeah," she mumbled, looking at the ground. He turned and they started walking away from the RV. There was no rush, so they didn't hurry, but it also wasn't a leisurely stroll. Their pace was somewhere in between. She was weak and exhausted from another day of worry and barely having eaten or slept in as long as she could remember, so she didn't have the energy to even try to come up with conversation. Even an awkward conversation like the one they'd had in the church – had that been the same day? Or was it months ago? It was all running together now – was too much for her to muster. Still, she felt just a little bit lighter with him next to her.

They walked in silence for about a half mile, with the sky turning pink and then a brilliant orange right before their eyes. It was the kind of thing that she would have taken a picture of, back when she had a camera or a phone to use to take pictures. She had loved taking pictures once upon a time. They had mostly been pictures of Sophia, but sunsets had also been one of her favorite subjects. It wasn't often that she could get a picture of one though, since they usually happened right around the time she was either making dinner, to be sure it was ready when Ed wanted it, or, if he was home early, dealing with Ed's unpredictable moods. Still, she had loved to watch the sunset from her kitchen window when she could chance the glance outside. They helped her remember that no matter what, there was beauty in the world. It seemed hard to swallow now, with everything that had happened and that _was still_ happening, that there could still be beauty in the world, but it gave her a tiny sliver of hope that the future would be better. She could feel tears stinging her eyes and she cursed herself for giving in to her thoughts with Daryl right next to her. The last thing she needed to do was cry in front of him, _again._

Daryl stopped when they'd gone about a half mile, not wanting to get any farther from the RV when it was so close to getting dark. He knew that he could take care of himself, but didn't want to put her in danger unnecessarily. She stopped beside him, looking as though she was mesmerized by the sunset. It was understandable, because the swirl of colors in the sky, changing every minute now, was more intense than any he could remember – not that he'd been paying too much attention to sunsets lately. He looked down into her face more carefully, seeing an unreadable combination of emotions reflected there, and couldn't help but think that she was remembering something.

"We should go back, 's gonna be dark soon," he said hesitantly, not wanting to intrude on her thoughts but knowing that darkness would fall quickly after the sun disappeared. She swatted a hand at her cheek, hoping he didn't notice that she was wiping away tears, and nodded quickly, shaking her head to push the unpleasant thoughts away. She turned around quickly to walk a step ahead of him, but his strides were longer than hers and he caught up with her easily. They walked the rest of the way back in comfortable silence. He still couldn't figure it out, but there was something about being around her. He liked it, which was more than he could say for any other human being he could think of.

She was grateful that he didn't talk to her. There were so many thoughts swirling around in her head, almost like the colors in the sky, mixed up with each other and constantly changing. She couldn't sort them out, much less explain them to anyone else, and she wouldn't have been able to listen to anyone talking to her either, right now. She guessed that the battle unfolding inside her head could very well be due at least in part to exhaustion, which she now finally, after several days running on adrenaline, felt overcoming her.

They got back to the RV just as it was getting dark. She stopped and looked out at the now faint glow in the sky, and he followed her gaze. She spoke without looking at him. "You're gonna insist that I go inside and lie down, aren't you?"

His face didn't register any change, but he felt himself smile on the inside. Keeping his eyes on the horizon, he mumbled "Yup." He heard her sigh heavily, and he shook his head. _Damn woman is just as stubborn as I am_, he thought. He found her stubbornness simultaneously frustrating and yet endearing.

She had sighed heavily for dramatic effect, but really, she felt a strange kind of relief. She didn't _want_ to lie down, she _wanted_ to sit on the guard rail until Sophia finally walked out of the woods, alive. Clearly this was more of a _wish_, since even _she_ didn't believe it would actually happen. Logically she knew that she should lie down, and she felt exhausted, she really just needed that extra nudge to make herself do it. Despite everything, it was comforting to know that she wasn't completely alone, that there was someone who cared what happened to her, possibly more than she cared about _herself_ at the moment. It didn't make the pain less, but it gave her a little more strength to deal with it all.

Still, she dreaded the night, the time when there was no escaping from her thoughts. She knew it was unlikely that she would sleep, and she knew from experience that it wouldn't be long before her feelings would overwhelm her. She'd either have nightmares or end up sobbing, possibly both. She was bracing herself for it all, and the rough night that was sure to be ahead. She wondered wearily how long she'd have to endure laying there before she could find an excuse to escape, and how many more long nights this pattern would continue for.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Daryl's low voice, still right there beside her. "Know ya don't sleep good, 'n it's hard when ya think too much, but ya _gotta_ rest." She looked up in surprise. _Of course he knew, they were all sharing pretty close quarters,_ she reminded herself. And besides, _he always seemed to know_. The way he seemed to understand her so easily was terrifying and comforting all at the same time.

As the last of the light on the horizon disappeared, Daryl mumbled "C'mon… won't be forever, just a few hours. Now get goin,'" and nudged Carol's shoulder gently in the direction of the RV with his own shoulder. She glanced at him and smiled ever so slightly as she saw understanding in his eyes. She'd never said a thing, but he got it. Of course he did. She started walking towards the RV. "Alright, I'm going. Sheesh, you're so bossy," she mumbled, still smiling.

"Hmmmpf," he mumbled back to her. "Goin' on watch. You keep your ass in that RV, woman, or you'll have me to deal with."

"Hmmmpf," she grumbled, doing her best impression of his mumbling as she climbed the metal steps that led inside.

Daryl climbed up the ladder of the RV, relieving Dale and Andrea from the post to get whatever little rest they could. He looked around him at what the world had come to, and suddenly it was all almost surreal. As far as he could see, moonlight reflected off of the metal of long since abandoned cars. The grass was already overgrown and beginning to look wild. This was the way things were now. He shook his head at the absurdity of it all. He would have preferred to be in the woods, of course, but at least up here he could still be alone with his thoughts.


	14. Alone

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Happy New Year! This chapter would have been posted yesterday, except that my husband decided to play video games with the kids all afternoon and I couldn't resist sitting down to watch the Walking Dead New Year's marathon on AMC while I had the chance! This chapter is the first time I've done more than mention things that actually happened on the show, but the two tiny little conversation sections I quoted from the show between Carol and Dale just screamed to be included. So I'll call this one an extended scene more than a deleted one, I guess. :) Hope you all enjoy it!**

**Season 2, episode 3**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, Sometime during the night**

As she had predicted, Carol had spent an agonizing few hours – if it had really been that long – trying to sleep, but failing miserably. She hadn't been able to stop her thoughts from going to Sophia, and from there she had spiraled downwards into despair. She knew she'd kept the others awake with her sobbing, and that just made her feel worse, but she just hadn't been able to help herself.

She didn't remember being anywhere near ready to fall asleep, but she must have, since she was now waking up. She wondered how long she had actually slept. Her dream hadn't been as vivid or as terrifying this time, for once. She didn't even remember this one, she just had a lingering feeling of unease. It was the first time since Sophia had gone missing that she hadn't been jerked awake in terror and the first time that she hadn't had to struggle to catch her breath from panic left over from a dream.

With some difficulty, she though back to what she could remember before she had fallen asleep. She had come inside after walking with Daryl and had laid down while he'd gone on watch. She remembered that at some point before she'd fallen asleep, Daryl had come back into the RV. He'd lay on the floor for a while, but she'd been lying in bed crying, and it wasn't long after that that she'd seen him get up, saying that he was going out to look for Sophia. Andrea had followed after him almost immediately. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at having driven the other two out of the RV with her sobbing. Carol had no idea how long ago that had been. It could have been minutes or hours ago. All she knew was that it was still very dark outside.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and listened to the quiet. Even when they weren't making any noise, the RV was so different when a few other people were in it with her. There was something eerie about the quiet right now. Ever since everything had happened, when the world had turned upside down – some people called it The Turn – complete silence had seemed a little eerie to her. It made her feel uncomfortably close to being the last person on Earth, even though she knew she wasn't. She imagined that Dale was probably on the roof above her, back on watch. She marveled at how Dale seemed to take the lion's share of the watch shifts, seemingly never needing to sleep. It was pretty impressive, especially for a man of his age. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. There was nothing to keep her occupied in the RV, so she made her way to the door and quietly let herself out into the night air.

The sound of crickets greeted her as she stumbled quietly down the steps, then headed for the ladder that went to the top of the vehicle. "Can't sleep?" Dale asked her as reached the top of the ladder.

Carol just sighed, meeting his eyes for only a second, then without looking at him she said, "I'm gonna wait for them to come back. You can go down and sleep if you want to."

Dale was certain that Carol wasn't ready to be on watch alone, which everything she'd been through, and having barely slept at all in the past few days. He also couldn't bear to leave his post until Andrea had made it back safely. She looked up at him then. "No, we can keep watch together," he told her. They walked a few steps along the roof of the RV, looking out at the graveyard of abandoned cars that had once been a highway that stretched before them.

Wanting to know which direction to focus her attention, Carol asked, "Which way did they go?"

Dale took another step in the direction they were already facing and pointed off into the woods, and Carol nodded. She could see the concern in his face even though he didn't say a word about it.

They stood in silence for what felt like a long time. It wasn't quite comfortable, but it wasn't quite awkward. There was an understanding that they were both worried, and both were lost in their own thoughts. Carol tried to focus on watching the landscape, looking for any changes, any movement, listening for any sounds other than the normal night sounds of the woods, _anything_, trying not to think about any one thing in particular for too long. There were no safe topics, because everything would eventually lead her back to something that would hurt if she let the thought follow its natural path. _Because every thought eventually led back to Sophia._

She was sitting now, and she glanced up at Dale, saw that his face reflected some of the same worry that she felt. It had become obvious to most of the group that he cared about Andrea in a fatherly way, despite the fact that his concern clearly drove Andrea crazy sometimes. Many times it was the same between blood-related parents and children as well.

"You don't need to worry. She's with Daryl." She looked out at night, then back up at Dale. "If something happens he can protect her. You hear what I'm saying?"

As much as Carol was concerned about Daryl and Andrea out in the woods, she really did believe that Andrea was safe with him. It was just a feeling that she had, and she couldn't explain why. She just knew that _she_ always felt safe with Daryl. No matter what anyone else might think or say about him, how tough he might act or how much he might swear, she knew that he was a good man.

Dale continued to peer anxiously out into the night. "Sorry, all I heard was 'if something happens.'" He didn't have the same insight into Daryl and therefore couldn't have her confidence, and Carol understood that. She let the subject go, knowing first hand that there was nothing further she could say to reassure him. He paused, then asked, "You mind keeping watch?" She felt panic rise in her as he started to give her his rifle.

"I don't know how to use that."

"I won't be gone long. If you see anything, call out. I'm not going far. I'll hear you." And then without waiting for her to answer, he was down the RV ladder to the ground and was walking away, just like that. Carol looked around nervously. She saw him disappear between the abandoned cars, and then quickly lost sight of him. She had no idea where he was going, only that he, too, had disappeared.

Panic was rising in her chest, despite the fact that he had said that he wasn't going far. She fought against the "What ifs" that struggled to hijack her thoughts. She thought she heard a twig snap and stood up, wheeling around in the direction she thought the sound had come from. There was nothing moving anywhere as far as she could see, and she continued looking around nervously, turning so many times where she stood that she almost made herself dizzy. She sank back into the chair and took deep breaths, trying not to let her fear overcome her. She hated that she felt so weak, so defenseless.

She was alone. While in her old life she would have seen time alone as a godsend, in this new world being alone was terrifying. Of course, if the alternative was Ed, she still preferred to be alone, but each held their own set of dangers. It hit her that everyone had left her, though not all of them had done it purposely. _Everyone._ She shivered, even though she wasn't cold. Every creak, every rustle, every single noise that she heard suddenly thundered in her ears. This _was_ what it was like to be alone at the end of the world.

She reminded herself that she was keeping watch. That she needed to be alert, to be strong. That they would be back.

That _he_ would be back.

He had cared enough to venture into the woods, in the dark, with the danger of walkers that could be literally anywhere, in any numbers, for _her_. He hadn't gone because he wanted to, or because he was leaving her alone. Exactly the opposite. He'd gone for her, _for Sophia, _and he would be back. That much she knew.

She made herself take deep breaths. She'd always been good at blocking out the pain before, she'd had no choice… but this was so much worse, and her old coping mechanisms weren't working.

No matter how she tried to hold out hope, it was hard not to feel alone and very, very, small, up here in the air without another human being in sight, looking around at what the world had become. She had not lost everyone… only the one who was the most important to her in the world. She hugged her knees to her chest, sitting there huddled in Dale's lawn chair as once again, tears quietly fell down her cheeks.


	15. Breakdown

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 3**

**A traffic jam on the highway outside of Atlanta, Sometime during the night (probably closer to morning but still dark)**

Dale had come back about twenty minutes later from whatever mission he'd sent himself on, without explanation, and they'd settled back into their silent waiting game. Finally, two small beams of light, Daryl and Andrea's flashlights, had emerged from the woods and headed back down the highway towards them silently, weaving their way around the cars and the occasional debris or fallen walkers. It was immediately clear from the way they moved that they were coming back without Sophia. Dale breathed a sigh of relief to see that they were both safe, especially Andrea. Carol, on the other hand, grabbed the small backpack that she had brought up to the roof with her and stormed down the ladder as quickly as she could. She wanted to be back in the RV before she fell apart again, as she knew that she was about to, before she had to do it in front of the others once again. Just because it had happened before – more than once now – didn't mean she wanted it to happen again if she could avoid it. The door of the RV banged shut behind her loudly, louder than she'd intended.

She managed to get inside the RV and partway to the bed, to the section of the floor where Daryl had been laying earlier that night, before she collapsed. Her knees simply buckled under her and she was suddenly on the ground, on her hands and knees, gasping for air and sobbing all over again. It was like she was reliving the moment Sophia had run into the woods with the two walkers just behind her once again, only this time it was worse, because that had been days ago. Everyone knew that when children disappeared, the longer they were gone, the less likely they were to come back.

_It's not getting easier,_ her mind shrieked in agony,_ it's never going to get easier. _On the contrary, it was getting_ harder_, because she was losing hope, and hope was all she had left. This time was also worse because this time she was alone. Out on the road, she'd had a small army of people supporting her, holding her up both literally and figuratively, and she could see now that it'd made a difference. Here on the floor, she had no one. The longer this living hell went on, the more times she cried herself to sleep only to be haunted by her nightmares, the more alone she felt. Once again, she felt like the last person left on Earth, and it was horrible.

She cried so hard that no sound escaped from her mouth, her eyes having clamped themselves shut and the rest of her senses completely shut off. She was shaking so violently that someone who didn't know what was going on might have thought she was having a seizure. It was no wonder why she didn't hear Daryl come into the RV, leaving Andrea outside to talk to Dale about her gun.

He saw her on the floor and he knew she'd seen him coming back without her daughter. He'd seen her silhouette descend the ladder as they approached the RV and had heard the angry bang of the door. He'd thought that she'd be furious with him. He'd actually come in expecting to have to verbally defend himself, or worse, face her disappointment, but certainly not this. He'd never known how to handle a crying woman, and it seemed like lately she cried _so much_… and he understood why, just not what he could do about it. He couldn't help but feel like it was all because of him. If he had only managed to find Sophia, she wouldn't be hurting like this. In his mind, this was all _his_ fault.

Not surprisingly, she didn't hear him coming in. The noise in her head, in her ears, in every part of her body, blocked out everything happening around her. The world could have been on fire, she could have been surrounded by walkers, and she never would have noticed. Seeing her there like that tugged at his heart and he felt even guiltier than he had before. He hadn't even know that was possible, but apparently it was.

He squeezed into the cramped space where she had collapsed and knelt down beside her, slowly, wondering what he should do. "Carol," he said firmly but gently, trying to get her attention, but it was no use. He could see that she didn't even know he was there. He bit his bottom lip, nervous, but knowing that he had to fix this, knowing that he would do just about anything right now to make her stop crying. He felt like he owed her that much after coming back without Sophia, _again._

Very slowly and very awkwardly he lifted his arms, putting them gently around her. He knew that this was something that people did, though he couldn't remember ever doing this for a single soul. Not since his mother had died so many years ago had he held anyone else, or been held himself. His mother had been the only one who had done that for him, as far as he could remember. Since then, touch of any kind had been something he'd avoided at all costs, since the only kinds he had experienced since then had been beatings at the hand of his father. So when he put his arms around her, he did so very tentatively, because this was just not something he _did_. He didn't touch people on purpose, nor did he let others touch him, at all. The only small exceptions that he'd made to this rule so far, as far as he could remember, had all been since he'd met her, and all of these exceptions had been _for her_. He didn't know why, but she made him want to break that crucial rule.

As soon as his arms were around her, she started fighting against him. She wasn't a match for his strength by any stretch of the imagination, but she pushed back harder against him than he had expected. He didn't want to fight her, and could see that she was only struggling because she didn't really know where she was, what was going on, or who was holding onto her. On top of everything else, now she was panicking. For all she knew, he could be a walker.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned down so that his mouth was next to her ear and was whispering "Ssssshhhhhhh, Carol. 's me. 's Daryl. You're OK… You're OK…" It took a moment, but he could see that his words were getting through because he felt her stop struggling. Her sobbing continued, however, even harder now, if that was possible. He had never before seen anyone cry this hard, to the point where they didn't make a sound. Even he himself, in as much pain as he had been in his life, had never done that. He pulled his arms just a little tighter around her. "I'm sorry," he murmured over and over. "I'm sorry."

It took a while, but eventually she ran out of energy to cry. Her breakdown had been so intense that at some point, she had just run out of tears. It was some time before her breathing slowed down and she stopped gulping for air. It was around this time when she had very slowly once again become conscious of the world around her. She was surprised to find that she was pressed against Daryl's chest, so close that she could hear his heartbeat, his arms still wrapped around her.

Though he had felt extremely uncomfortable about putting his arms around her like that in the first place, his need to comfort her had outweighed his discomfort. He simply had not been able to stand to see her in that state, crumpled on the floor, and it was the only way he could think of to calm her down. As she gradually relaxed, he became more and more aware of the fact that he still had his arms around her, and of how he had pulled her very close to him. The more he thought about the position they were still sitting in, the more nervous _he_ became. As her breathing evened out, he slowly released his grip on her, then awkwardly let his arms drop, leaning back on his hands, which he had stretched out behind him as much as space allowed. He watched her carefully for signs as to what he should do next. She sat back on her knees, taking deep breaths and avoiding his eyes.

She slowly remembered some of what had happened – that she had collapsed on the floor – and she knew that Daryl must have come in and seen her like that. Her mind guessed at the details that she couldn't remember, such as the fact that he must have held onto her while she cried, based on the position in which she had found herself.

She was _mortified_. She had done it again, completely lost it in front of him, except this time was _so_ _much worse_. She couldn't ever remember breaking down like that, not in all the times she'd thought she couldn't have cried harder.

The open space on the floor where they sat, now slightly apart, was small, so even after withdrawing from each other, they still felt awkwardly close. Daryl was watching her carefully, but only because she was so determined to look away. He was trying to read something into her behavior, figure out whether he had helped or made things worse. He wondered what had possessed him to do any of it, anyway.

"Sorry," she whispered, wiping tears from her face for what felt like the thousandth time in only a few days. She continued to stare at the floor.

"Whatcha think you got to be sorry for?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

She shrugged. "Whatever that was, I guess."

He shook his head slowly, which made no difference because she still wasn't looking at him. "Ya don't got nothin to be sorry for, okay? _Nothin._"

She nodded quickly, wiping a few stray remaining tears from her face.

"You OK? You wanna sit somewhere… besides the floor?" he asked her gently. Nervously.

She nodded again, and slowly looked up at him, trying to smile. He had shown more caring towards her in the past ten minutes than Ed had during their entire marriage, and she didn't know how to react. She was too embarrassed to speak. He stood up carefully in the small space, then offered her his hand and pulled her up as well. He let her hand drop slowly.

They sat across the small table from each other, neither of them speaking, for what felt like a long time. His hands were clasped together and he was staring at them, fidgeting with them on the table. Now _she_ was watching _him_. She was completely drained, and didn't have the energy to do anything but sit. Even that felt like too much at the moment.

He decided to be the one to speak first. "_I'm_ the one who's sorry," he mumbled. She looked shocked, and shook her head. He didn't see the gesture, because he was still starting at his hands.

"Why in the world would you need to be sorry?" she whispered, taken aback.

He looked up at her for the first time since they'd sat down at the table. "I didn't find her, Sophia. Again. I failed you. _Again_," his voice wasn't even a whisper, and his eyes darted back down at his hands.

"Daryl, I… How can you say that?" she began, shocked. "You're the one who's done the _most_. Everyone else has given up."

He just shook his head and shrugged. _I can't stand to see you so sad_, he thought to himself, but he didn't say it out loud. _It's my fault._

_How can you possibly think that any of this is your fault? You are the only thing keeping me going,_ she thought to herself. _If you weren't here, I think I would curl up and die._ But didn't say it out loud. She rested her elbows on the table, then put her head in her hands, closing her eyes. She was just so tired, in every way that a person could be tired.

They sat that way for a long time, sitting across the small table from each other, both of them lost inside their own heads, not looking at each other or speaking, but drawing strength from being there together.

Finally, as the first hint of light was coming into the sky, she sat up straight and sighed. "I'm going to lie down for just a little while, before the night's completely over," she said.

"Good idea," he replied.

"Are you… gonna be here? Or are you going out… there somewhere?" she waved her hand toward the window to indicate the world outside the RV.

He glanced out the window. _It __**would**__ be nice to get out of here for a while_, he thought… "What'll make you feel better, if I stay or go?" he asked softly. She was getting used to the rough and yet simultaneously gentle voice that he only used around her. She couldn't deny that she liked it.

"I _always_ feel better with you around," she whispered.

"A'ight then," he replied, "I'll be here."

She stood up and ever so slowly, hoping that he wouldn't flinch, put her hand lightly on his shoulder. He saw her hand coming towards him as if in slow motion, and was surprised himself when he didn't pull back. He could feel the warmth of her hand through his shirt, and he didn't hate it, which was something. She gave him a sad smile and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Thank you," she whispered, and then before he knew it, her hand was gone and she was halfway to the bed at the back of the RV. He watched her, still feeling her touch on his shoulder, wondering at how gentle it had been.

_No, thank you,_ he thought to himself, but he didn't say it out loud.


	16. Alright

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: Wow, you guys! I'm glad you seemed to like the previous chapter, **_**Breakdown**_**, as much as I did. I'm starting to feel guilty though, like I'm torturing poor Carol because all I've done for what feels like many chapters in a row is make her cry. She gets a little bit of reprieve this time, though. Thanks so much to those who've left me reviews! You are all very generous with your compliments, and I appreciate it immensely.**

**Season 2, episode 4**

**The Greene Family's Farm, day**

After her breakdown the night before, she had slept for a few hours – more than she had expected, and blissfully without the nightmares she usually suffered – out of sheer exhaustion. When she had awoken, she found Daryl busying himself inside the RV. She immediately felt appreciation that he had stayed, as he had said he would. She wondered if knowing that he was there had contributed to her peaceful sleep.

Among the things that he had done while she slept was to assemble a collection of non-perishables, such as bottles of Gatorade and water and a jar of peanut butter, that they could leave behind in case Sophia found her way back before they could return there to check for her. Together, they wrote a large note for the girl, using a combination of materials they'd found in the various cars nearby, on the back window of one of the cars nearby. Carol was touched and surprised by his concern. He had already explained to her _why_ he cared, about both of them, when they were back at that little church they'd found in the woods, but it continued to surprise her nonetheless. She certainly wasn't accustomed to feeling cared about by anyone except Sophia. Quite the opposite actually, she was used to being told that she was useless, and worse. It was difficult to believe anything else after so long.

When they had written the note and assembled the food on the trunk of the old car, she knew the time had come to leave that spot on the interstate. It hurt her to admit it, but even _she_ knew that they couldn't stay there forever. She consoled herself with the fact that at least Daryl hadn't given up, even if the others had, that _he_ was still looking for Sophia.

Their three vehicle caravan – Daryl on his motorcycle, followed by the silver SUV and Dale's RV at the back – had rumbled up to the Greene's secluded farmhouse. They had immediately been told by Lori and Rick that there'd been a hunting accident, but that Carl was alive. That was the end of their little meeting on the porch.

Carol watched as Daryl disappeared across the vast expanse of grass that surrounded the farmhouse. There were groves of trees in the distance. Daryl always gravitated towards the outdoors when the choices were between that and people, so she wasn't surprised. Everyone else had just melted away, whether they'd gone inside or somewhere else on the property. She'd been standing on the large, wrap around porch lost in thought, and now she found herself there alone.

It was a beautiful, large porch, and she walked casually along the railing, finding that it wrapped much farther around the house than she had originally noticed. It was the kind of porch that she had always coveted in her previous life. There was just something about this area of a house that gave the advantages of being both inside and outside at the same time, the kind of place that just seemed to call to people to sit and relax. She'd never had any desire to live on a farm, but she had always envied the owners of any house with large front porches, never having had one herself. Not that she would have had any time to sit and relax on one, but still.

She found a spot at the far end of the porch, almost at the back of the house because it wrapped around so far, and leaned against the railing. She imagined that she could stand here for hours and not be noticed, which sounded both blissful and terrifying at the same time. After the events of the previous night, and the previous few days before that, she felt numb. The thought of hiding here in the shadows, not having to talk to a soul, sounded simultaneously wonderful and torturous. As much as she didn't want to be alone at the end of the world, she also didn't want to be _with_ anyone. This jumble of feelings was too much for even _her_ to understand herself, and she tried her best to clear her mind and just look out at the rolling hills before her. She could almost convince herself that the past few weeks – had it been weeks? – were all a bad dream. But then, she wasn't sure she wanted them to be… because that would mean that her life _before_ the Turn was still her life, and she couldn't bear that thought either.

No, it was better if she was just here, where she was standing, not thinking, not hoping, not feeling. Just being here on this porch in the silence. It should be enough for her that her life was not in danger at this exact second, from man or walker. Wishing for anything else just felt greedy.

She leaned harder against the railing, hands dangling in front of her, and closed her eyes. She willed herself not to conjure up any images in the blackness, but she couldn't stop it. Her daughter's beautiful face appeared before her eyes, smiling gently at her, and she felt a single tear fall down her cheek. _Dammit_, she thought. She had been sure that she'd run out of tears, but somehow her supply seemed to be never ending.

Hearing the floorboards creak ever so slightly nearby, she opened her eyes and turned slowly to see Daryl walking hesitantly towards her. His expression was serious, but then, he wasn't one to walk around with a smile on his face. She had noticed that he rarely smiled at all, even when he was being kind to her. As long as she'd known him, there hadn't been many things to smile about anyway, certainly not since Sophia went missing. Because of all this, his serious expression didn't concern her, or stop her from feeling glad to see him.

Though she had purposely sought out this spot to be alone, she had been feeling isolated there in the corner, hearing faint voices filter out from inside the house, and she was actually relieved to have company. Of all the people in the group, she was glad that he was the one who had found her there, though she was surprised that he had wandered back to the house so soon. She'd expected him to be gone for hours yet, as he usually was when he took off.

He walked slowly over to stand beside her, stopping about a foot away and turning to look over the railing into the distance.

"Y'alright?" he asked in his gravely tone, without looking back at her.

"I think so," she whispered hesitantly, still not quite trusting her voice to come out without breaking. Seeing Sophia's face again in her mind, even just for a second, had tugged on the thread by which she was barely holding on. As numb as she felt, she still feared that she would lose it again if she wasn't careful with both her words and her thoughts.

" 'S hard to believe this place ain't far from the interstate," he said slowly, looking out at the property as she'd been doing only a little while earlier. "Feels so peaceful. Like the rest of it's all a bad dream."

"I was just thinking something a lot like that," she replied quietly, looking out over the land that had probably looked exactly the same before the world had turned upside down.

They heard a screen door bang around the corner, and two voices speaking to each other, and then fading into the distance, but never saw the owners of those voices. Carol thought fleetingly that this might be her new favorite spot… if, of course, she had had the energy or the desire to _have _a favorite spot, or a favorite _anything_, ever again. Somehow it suddenly seemed pointless, all of it.

She closed her eyes and sighed, hanging her head, still leaning on the railing.

Daryl watched the instant change come over her, and he stood still, torn between doing something and doing nothing. He honestly didn't know what was appropriate in this situation. When she'd been hysterical the night before, it'd been much easier to know the correct response, but this… this was so much harder. He could see that she was suffering, and yet, what was the right thing to do? _Was_ there anything he could do to make it stop? And if so, _what?_

He fleetingly wondered why he felt so drawn to help her, but really, he knew the answer to that. Ever since that day at the quarry, when he'd seen her with that asshole husband of hers, he'd cared what happened to her. He may not be on good terms with or have any understanding of any other human being in this crazy fucked up world, but what Ed had been doing to her, that was the _one_ thing he did understand. He knew how much it destroyed a person inside. He had had years to process what had happened to him as a kid – not that he had it figured out, mind you – but he'd been able to at least put some distance between it and himself. He knew that he was fucked up – he could tell because he didn't react to anything the way other people seemed to – but at least he'd learned to cope as best he could. He looked at Carol, and he saw himself so long ago, and yet also himself today. He still didn't know how to help her, but she was the _only_ person in the whole goddamn world that he could actually relate to, simple as that. So he'd made it his goal to watch out for her, because she'd been through enough. _More_ than enough.

Daryl figured that since he didn't know what to do, he'd just stand where he was and see if he could figure it out, assuming there was anything he _could_ do, to help her. He was a tracker, which meant he was usually very observant by nature. People weren't his thing, but he decided that there must be able to train himself to use his tracking skills to figure out people – not even people, just _her_ – if he really tried. It was just a new challenge, and he was always up for a challenge. He continued to watch her carefully.

_I'm here,_ he thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud.

He wasn't facing her, but he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. The look on her face was heartbreaking, and he knew that as she stood there with her eyes closed, she was working through something.

She'd been leaning on the railing with her eyes closed for what felt like an eternity. She assumed that he'd gone by now and she just hadn't noticed, and she felt an emptiness spread out through her, the feeling of being alone at the end of the world filling her with dread once again. However, when she opened her eyes and glanced at the spot where he'd been, he was still beside her, looking out into the distance. The emptiness she felt was immediately replaced by a feeling of warmth that she couldn't quite identify. All she knew was, she was glad that he was still there. She felt a tiny hint of a smile sweep slowly across her face.

Watching her face change when she opened her eyes and saw him still there, he knew that just standing there had been the right thing to do, and he was glad that he had fought the urge to run when he had started wondering if she would rather have been alone.

"Y'alright?" he asked again, turning to look at her now, not sure what else to say.

Her smile was sad, but it reached her eyes as she nodded. "Much better," she replied, feeling her smile finally even reach her voice. _Thanks to you,_ she thought to herself, but didn't say that part out loud.

She sighed, and as much as she was enjoying the calming feeling of standing beside him, she realized how long she'd been there, and suddenly felt like she should be making herself useful. "I should see if I can help with anything around here, make myself useful," she announced, pushing herself up off of the railing. "Thank you for… caring," she said simply, locking eyes with him for a few seconds.

" 'S nuthin," he mumbled, breaking that eye contact and looking at the floor. She walked behind him on her way into the house, laying her hand ever so gently on his arm for just a split second as she went by. Before he had the chance to react, she'd already removed it. Again, the warmth lingered after her touch was gone, and he had to admit that he didn't hate the sensation.

He heard the screen door close, and he decided to walk the property and see more of this new place, wondering how long they'd be able to stay, knowing better than to think they would be safe there for too long.


	17. Breathe

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned anything related to The Walking Dead – it would be a very different show! But I'm just having fun filling in some gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 4**

**The Greene Family's Farm, day**

After she'd left Daryl on the front porch earlier, she'd helped out around the house as well as around the camp for a while, busying herself as best she could. That's what she'd been telling herself she needed: to try to find anything that she could do to occupy her hands, but mostly to occupy her mind. It didn't work of course, and Sophia was always there at the front of her thoughts… but it helped just the tiniest bit to stay busy.

A few hours later, however, she ended up back at that back corner of the porch. She'd noticed that if she didn't go quite all the way around, she could see and hear a lot of the comings and goings of the farmhouse and the property around it without being observed. She liked the peace.

It was from that spot on the porch that she watched Daryl stride across the grassy expanse in front of the house, and then Rick catch up to him. She'd heard someone say that Daryl was going back out to look for Sophia alone that day, since Shane's ankle was still sprained from the ill-fated yet successful run to the high school where they'd lost Otis, and Rick had was still recovering from giving three units of blood for Carl's transfusion. She heard Daryl tell Rick something about being "better on his own."

She marveled at the fact that he was going back out there once again, at how determined he was to find a girl who had laid eyes on only a few times at most. He'd explained it all to her, the reasons why he wanted to help, but she simply couldn't process the fact that someone besides she herself cared that much about Sophia. Even Ed would never in a million years have been that determined, and he was Sophia's _father_. Not only that, but how could he – or _anyone_ – possibly think he was better off on his own out there, where he could stumble across any number of walkers at any time, anywhere? It was unfathomable to her. But then again, Daryl Dixon seemed like a guy who could look out for himself. He wasn't carrying that heavy looking crossbow for decoration, after all.

She wondered about another comment she heard pass between the two men as well. She heard Rick tell Daryl "We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now," and then a few seconds later,

"It lets you off the hook. You don't owe us anything." To which Daryl responded, as he turned to walk away, "My other plans fell through." She was surprised she'd heard the last part, considering the distance, but the sound had carried just right, and she was certain that she'd heard him correctly. What in the world could they be talking about? They couldn't be talking about Daryl _leaving_, surely? In such a small group as this, someone would have said something about it by now… wouldn't they?

Carol tried to pry from her memory the first time she'd seen Daryl and his brother back in that nightmare of a mess outside of Atlanta. Had it been on the highway? In the camp by the quarry? Down by the quarry itself? She couldn't quite remember how the Dixon brothers had come to join the group, or if she'd heard anything in particular about them at the time… she'd been somewhat _preoccupied_ with managing Ed – not that she had ever really been able to manage Ed Peletier – and worrying about Sophia's safety as the world had seemed to tilt on its axis. No, somehow the Dixon brothers' arrival was one more hazy part of that terrible time, back before… she sighed heavily, putting up a roadblock to that train of thought. _STOP, _she told herself. _Do not go there_. The Dixon Brothers' arrival would just have to remain a mystery to her, because the details lay down a path that she would not be following, at least not today.

…

Daryl strode away from Rick, grumbling, "My other plans fell through," over his shoulder. He didn't know if he'd said it loud enough to be heard from that distance, and he didn't really care.

He'd been with this group for a while now. Maybe at first he'd acted – maybe he'd told them? – like he didn't intend to stay, but a helluva lotta shit had gone down since then. The original plan was the he and Merle were gonna bail, but Merle wasn't fuckin here, so that plan was shot to hell. Yeah, he liked to be on his own. He liked to _think_ he didn't need the rest of them. But this wasn't the same world it had been not too long ago, and even _he_ had to admit that he wasn't gonna be able to survive on his own anymore. He had to sleep sometime, and it wasn't smart to let your guard down if someone wasn't watching your back. What did people say?_ Better the devil you know than the one you don't,_ or something like that?

People had always been assholes, and a lot of them were worse now that there was no one left to enforce any kinda laws. Some people were just tryin to survive, but others were downright evil. On top of that, now ya had to worry about fuckin corpses walkin around tryin to sneak up on you and _eat the flesh right off you_. It was beyond fucked up. So no, he wasn't gonna be strikin out on his own. That pissed him off to no end, that he was now stuck depending on other people, because most people he'd met in his life were assholes. Granted, this group turned out to be kinda alright, not _so_ bad as he'd originally thought. But _still_.

Somehow with Merle gone, his thinking had changed. Hell, his behavior had changed. He could recognize that. He didn't have to be in the shadow of someone who seemed hellbent on treating every person he met like shit. Merle claimed that everyone else in the world were the assholes, and a lotta them may have been, but in reality he was just as big an asshole as the rest of em, if not bigger. Merle was determined to screw em all over before they could screw _him _over, and bring everyone down, Daryl right along with them. Yeah, Daryl missed his brother, but he could also recognize the change that had taken place in himself since Merle'd been missing. Did he want to see him again? Of course, he was family. But the whole thing was so goddamn complicated.

However, for the time being it wasn't an issue. Merle wasn't here, Daryl _was_ here, Sophia was still missing, and Carol… well, he couldn't see how someone as fucked up as he was could be of any help to her, but for some reason she seemed to think he could. She treated him like she treated everyone else – with kindness – and it confused the hell out of him. The idea that he could actually help her get through anything made him about as uncomfortable as he'd ever been in his life, but he kinda liked the feeling at the same time. That was fucked up in itself, because how the hell do you like an uncomfortable feeling? Not that he could let himself _believe_ that he could help her at all, except hopefully, just maybe finding her daughter. Tracking, that he knew. The rest of it, well… she must be wrong, because he knew _he_ wasn't good for shit. That had been made abundantly clear to him all his life.

What it came down to was this: He had actually started to feel a tiny little bit like _someone_ around these people, for the first time in his life. Not all of em, mind you. Most of em'd still probably rather see him go than stay. If nothing else, he figured they put up with him because he brought in meat for the group when he went out hunting. But hell, it was something. More than anyone else had ever needed him for before. Only thing he'd been needed for up til now was to be either a punching bag or other object of abuse for his asshole father, or a follower, a henchman of his asshole older brother. These other people, well, who the hell knew?

He still needed his space, had to keep a good amount of distance between himself and them, but being the hunter of the group seemed to help give him exactly that. It was a perfectly rational reason to go off on his own for hours at a time. Between hunting and looking for Sophia, he got the benefits of being alone at least some of the time, along with having somebody watchin his back while he slept. For now, it seemed to work out alright.

And there was that thought again. _Sophia. _A tie to the group, however temporary.

_Poor little thing_, he thought, _out there with the walkers_. Daryl wasn't a softie for much in this world, but combine a kid lost in the woods at the end of the world, with man eating walkers out there roaming around and the kid's mother who not only had to suffer through knowing all that, but had already suffered god knows how many years of abuse from an asshole husband… the two things mirrored his life a little too closely for him to _not_ feel like he had to do something about it.

Could he walk away from this group if he had to? Sure. But where was he gonna _go_? He was already here, had kinda gotten used to these people – even though some of them were idiots – and for once in his life he could actually _help_ someone. He couldn't explain even to himself the connection he'd made with Carol. That was a whole new thing for him. It felt good to help someone for once… Not that he'd _been_ much help to her – Carol – as far as he was concerned, but he'd sure as hell been trying.

And so after all that had happened since he had joined the group, then along comes Rick, basically telling him _Hey, you're free to go. No need to stay here anymore_. What the hell did that mean? Did Rick expect him to just _leave?_ Did Rick _want_ him to leave? Was that who Rick thought he was? Some asshole who just wanted to leave? Is that how he was acting? _DID he just want to leave?_

His head was swimming with questions, with thoughts, with memories – recent ones along with the ones from long ago that he told himself he was done remembering – and _**it was pissing him off**__._ What the hell was he supposed to do with all these thoughts? He reached the end of the grassy expanse around the Greene family's farmhouse and pushed silently into the trees, his mind ready for the "relief" of focusing on tracking Sophia. That was what he knew, how he exorcised his demons, and he was glad for the chance to clear his mind as he slipped into the woods before him.

…

Not too long after the exchange she witnessed between Rick and Daryl, and shortly after she then watched Daryl stride once again off into the trees in the distance, Carol found herself in the back of the silver SUV that she'd ridden in onto the property the day before, with Shane driving and Andrea in the passenger seat. They were riding back to the spot on the highway that they had abandoned only yesterday.

Carol's stomach was clenched in both nervous anticipation and fear. Nervous anticipation because her desperate hope to find that Sophia was there and alive could not be extinguished, no matter how unrealistic she knew it was. Fear that when they got there, they would find the scene exactly as they had left it, making it clear that she had _not_ been there. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing the spot again, untouched. The longer the search went on, the bleaker the outlook was, and she was painfully aware of this. She knew that the rest of the group felt for her, but they didn't – _couldn't_ – really understand. Of this she was certain. That thought by itself made her feel keenly alone and desperate all over again. She fought back the sting of tears that were threatening to reveal themselves as they neared the spot, determined not to cry in front of these two, at least not this time. She told herself that she would be strong, tired of receiving so much pity from the other members of the group.

When they arrived at the place where Daryl had written the note for Sophia on the car window, and where they had left the bottles and jars of provisions lined up on the trunk in front of it, the scene was just as she'd feared. No sign of Sophia, no sign of any change from the day before whatsoever. Carol walked numbly to stand beside the car and reread the message to herself several times. "Sophia stay here. We will come back every day." She closed her eyes and tried to imagine repeating this process every day. Having to go through this fear, disappointment and pain _day after day_. The thought was almost more than she could bear.

She lifted her eyes to look past the slowly decaying cars in front of her to the trees beyond the guardrail, trying to rewind time using only her mind, in order to do something – _anything_ – differently and prevent this nightmare from happening. She'd been coping with the end of the world pretty well, she thought, once she'd put the pickaxe through Ed's head… until _this_. Losing Sophia felt like the blow that had knocked her down and would continue to hold her there, and she didn't feel like she'd ever be able to get back up.

She continued to stand by the car, unsure of what to do next, feeling frozen to the spot. This place was her last tangible connection to her poor Sophia, and she knew that in another few minutes she'd have to leave it, again, only to come back the next day and repeat the whole terrible process… How could she _do_ this? _How_? It was simple, _she couldn't. _

She felt herself start to hyperventilate, and she reached out and put both hands on top of the trunk of the car for support. She knew that Andrea and Shane were both watching her from a short distance away. She could feel their eyes boring into the back of her head. No, she would _not _cry in front of them. She _wouldn't_. There were tears in her eyes threatening to fall, but she refused to blink and allow them to be released. She held her eyes as wide open as possible, taking slow, careful breaths in and out, leaning heavily on the car for support, and gradually felt the panic in her chest subsiding. _Don't think_, she commanded herself. _For God's sake, don't think. Just stand here and breathe. Just breathe. You can do it. Breathe, in and out. Breathe._

Separately, Andrea and Shane both tried to find words that would ease Carol's pain, but the truth was that nothing anyone could say would make it better, and they knew it. Neither knew the woman in front of them very well, and though they wished they could help her somehow, they were both at a complete loss to do so. She shooed both of them away in turn, kindly, but as firmly as she could.

There was only one person, besides Sophia herself of course, whose presence would have made any difference to her, and he was out once again, looking for her daughter in the walker-filled wilderness. He seemed to have even more confidence than she did herself that Sophia was still out there, that there was any chance they would find her. She tried to focus her mind on the feeling of peace she got when he was beside her. She didn't understand how or why he had that effect on her, but she needed it so very badly that she had decided not to question it, and so she tried to summon it somehow without him actually being there. It wasn't the same, for sure, but it gave her something to focus on besides her pain as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

_Just breathe_, she told herself.


	18. Overwhelmed

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 4**

**The Greene Family's Farm, afternoon**

Carol sat in the RV with tears in her eyes. She was really and truly touched by the lengths that Daryl had gone through to ease her pain. Not only had he been out to look for Sophia _again_ today, _alone_, because none of the others were able to go along, but this supposed tough guy has just brought her a _flower_ – a Cherokee Rose, to be specific – in a beer bottle for a vase, telling her the story behind the flower, which was so appropriate to her sad situation. She had been so overwhelmed by his kindness that she had been speechless, and again tears had fallen from her eyes. She knew that he had probably assumed that the tears were for Sophia, and of course indirectly, they were. However, this time, the tears she had shed and the lump in her throat that prevented her from even uttering a small "thank you" in response, which was so unlike Carol, who was always so polite, were caused by something else.

Yet again, Daryl Dixon had managed, with the absolute simplest of gestures, to prove himself perhaps the most thoughtful man on the planet, as far as she was concerned. If she had been bowled over by his thoughtfulness when he had brought her a _water bottle_ – which she absolutely had been, twice – then there were just no words that could describe what she felt at this simple offering. _He had brought her a flower_. And not just _any_ flower, a flower that was said to be planted by the tears that mothers shed for their lost children. If there was anything more beautiful that one human being could do for another, someone who they knew was hurting so badly over the loss of a child, she did not know what it could be.

If she had not been sitting down when he had told her the story of that flower, she feared that she may have _fallen_ down just from the emotions she felt over this small gesture. It was the single most wonderful thing anyone had done for her in her entire adult life. She wished that she could have at least thanked the man who had once again shown her such incredible kindness, despite the rough exterior that he seemed to show to everyone else. It seemed unfair that he didn't know just how very much it had meant to her. She told herself that at some point she would do just that. It was only right, after he had been so good to her. _Why was he so good to her, anyway?_ There was certainly nothing she'd done that made her deserve so much kindness, or at least that was how she felt.

She realized with a start that she was doing it again… repeating Ed's words back to herself as if they were the truth now that Ed wasn't around to do it for her. It had become more than a habit over the years, and it was now second nature for her to put herself down. She had fought against the notion for a long time when they were first married, but after enough time, enough repetition and enough of his abuse, she had internalized it.

She _knew_ logically that it wasn't true, but, well, the bad was always easier to believe than the good, somehow. It was easier to believe that all of this – the many misfortunes in her life – had happened because she deserved it. Now Ed was gone, and she'd tried to break the habit of belittling herself as he had done… but she had long ago lost the will to fight against this notion. It would take a lot of work to undo it, and it certainly wasn't going to be easy.

Pushing Ed and the many ways he had destroyed her from her mind, she looked around her at the clean RV. She had worked so hard to tidy it up – it had been her big project this afternoon – and as she now finished the last of the sewing that she had been working on when Daryl had come by, she wondered what she should tackle next. Keeping herself busy couldn't take away her pain, but it at least helped her not dwell on it quite so much. She decided to venture outside and see what needed to be done around the camp, maybe take a walk. The weather was pleasant enough, and maybe it would help her mood to explore a little bit. The fences surrounding the farm didn't guarantee their safety of course, but it did help ease their minds.

She stood up and put her sewing away, remembering Daryl's look of surprise when he'd first come in, saying that he'd thought he was in the wrong place. She smiled slightly at that joke he had shyly made. He wasn't much for words, so the fact that he had put forth the effort to joke with her meant all the more. She crossed the small space and stood in front of the counter where he had set the beer bottle holding the Cherokee Rose, lifting the bottle gingerly so that the rose was level with her face and inhaling the scent it gave off. She closed her eyes, momentarily filled with a sense of peace that she had not thought she would ever feel again. For so many years she had become accustomed to the dark side of human nature, just smelling that flower and thinking about what it represented felt to her like the sun suddenly breaking through thunderclouds that she had thought would hover over her forever. Despite the bleakness of her world, she could not help but smile just for a moment, even if it was a smile tinged with sadness.

She put the makeshift vase back down carefully on the counter, her glance sweeping around the room once more before she headed for the door and the stairs that led outside. Stepping out of the RV into the bright sunlight, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the difference. She hadn't noticed it earlier, but it really was a beautiful day, if perhaps a little on the hot side. She walked the short distance to the campfire area where most of the group had pitched their tents, not seeing any activity. She heard voices filtering out of the farmhouse across the lawn, and, upon closer inspection, saw Lori lying down in her tent, eyes closed and a serene look on her face. _Good_, thought Carol, _She deserves a little rest._ They all did. Every one of them had been through so much recently.

Carol, of course, rested only when it was absolutely necessary. Her nightmares still haunted her sleep most of the time, some worse than others, so she made the effort to stay awake when possible. Since there was nothing happening at the camp and nothing she could see that needed to be done – a miracle in itself – she turned and scanned the rest of the property. There were doubtless people inside the house busying themselves with one thing or another, but she didn't really feel like jumping into the hustle and bustle of a group at the moment. She strolled slowly through the grass, no firm destination in mind, just walking and thinking she'd stay in the shade if possible.

Before long she realized that without even thinking about it, she had wandered in the direction of where Daryl had set up his tent, away from the others. She slowed down for just a second and glanced around quickly to see if Daryl was around as she approached. She didn't want to look like she had been heading there on purpose, but didn't see any sign of him. Just as she was just about to walk by and continue her tour of the property when she heard a noise behind her.

"Ya lookin' for something'?" came a low voice. She felt the hint of a smile on her face involuntarily even before she had turned around.

She stopped walking and turned around to face him, her smile slight but warm. "I was just taking a walk. I hadn't been out this way before."

He nodded slightly, pulling a string holding several squirrels from his belt. "Guess I won't have to come lookin for you after I skin these, if you wanna wait a couple minutes. 'Course, if you'd rather not, I can come an find ya in a bit." He didn't want her to feel compelled to stay there while he worked if she didn't want to.

Carol watched as Daryl backtracked, and couldn't help but smile, albeit wearily. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, it showed so plainly on his face. Her smile grew just a little bigger in response. She had always been good at putting others at ease. Years of practice dealing with a man with a volatile temper had given her far too much practice cultivating an even, soothing tone in a vain attempt to calm his unpredictable and violent behavior. "No no, it's lovely out here. I'd be happy to wait. You can show me exactly what skinning them involves." Her face betrayed just a little bit of squeamishness, and Daryl almost smiled at that. Almost. The hint of the smile was gone just as fast as she thought she saw it. He nodded again, the tension in his face lessening somewhat as he shuffled back and forth a few times, then turned back towards his little camp area. She followed him quietly.

Without a word, he sat down on the log that sat next to the firepit in front of his tent, removed the squirrels from the loops that held them, and made quick work of separating the flesh from the skins. Carol followed him over to the log and sat a few feet away, watching him work. As he focused on the somewhat disgusting task at hand, she was amazed to see the remaining tension that she had seen so clearly in his face just a few minutes before clear completely. He suddenly looked relaxed, as if he had done this all his life._ Maybe he had_, she thought. They sat in comfortable silence as he worked, moving from one squirrel to the next and then replacing them on the loops once they were bare.

"You make that look easy," she observed, smiling slightly.

"Pffft," he grunted, looking at the ground and scuffing the heel of his boot in the dirt.

"Mmm-hmmm, you're about as good with compliments as I am," she observed. He chuckled a little at that comment. Compliments made him uncomfortable. He wasn't used to hearing them.

"There ya go," he said gruffly, handing her the string of skinned squirrels.

"Wow, when you said it would take you a few minutes, you really weren't kidding, were you?" she asked. "You work fast." She knew what he was about to say, and she actually enjoyed the fact that she could anticipate it.

"Pffft," he grunted, just as before. She chuckled this time.

He looked up at her, confused. " 'S so funny?"

She tried to hide her smile, but couldn't. "Nothing. I just knew you were going to say that," she said simply.

He started to do it again – it was his standard response after all – and then caught himself. They both chuckled a little at that.

Carol decided that this was as good a time as any for the thank you that she felt she owed him, while they were here with no one else around. "I wanted to thank you," she began slowly. He looked at her with genuine confusion.

"Thank me? I ain't done nothing…"

She shook her head quickly, suddenly almost overcome by emotion just remembering how she had felt after he'd given her the flower. "That's where you're wrong," she continued softly. "I won't even mention how good you've been to me since Sophia's been missing, though it's the truth… but earlier, when you came back with that beautiful Cherokee Rose…" She could feel herself getting emotional all over again. "I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't even say thank you." She took a breath, noticing how uncomfortable he looked. _He's going to hear it whether he likes it or not,_ she thought. "So… thank you." She suddenly had no more words. She knew that "thank you" wasn't sufficient to convey what she felt, but she just couldn't manage any other words.

"Wasn't nothin'.." he started, and trailed off.

She shook her head slowly, looking lost in thought. "You're wrong. To me it was a _big_ something." She paused, willing herself not to cry, again. She knew how it made him uncomfortable. She took a deep breath. "It was the first time anyone – anyone besides Sophia," her voice cracked when she uttered her daughter's name, "has ever brought me a flower," she said simply, and then suddenly her warm smile turned sad. He met her eyes then, their eyes reflecting warmth back at each other, as if they were recharging each other's souls.

Once again, he couldn't help but feel anger rise at her husband. Dead or not, he'd really like to kill him right now. This woman who gave to others like it was nothing had never expected anything in return, because that was what she was used to. On the contrary, all it took to make her happy was the lack of abuse. Any sort of actual kindness was enough to push her over the edge, to where she couldn't stop her emotions from brimming right over. It was the saddest thing he'd ever seen, mostly because he knew _exactly_ how it felt. He felt that he had so little to give, nothing really to offer anyone, and yet she reacted to any tiny bit of his kindness as if he'd giftwrapped the moon for her. He felt unworthy of such admiration.

After looking at each other for a minute, he was the first to look away, again grinding at the dirt with his heel. She turned and looked back out at the trees, feeling her face flush a little at having spoken from the heart. She hadn't been able to help it. It was the truth.

Looking up at the sun, she knew it was about time to be starting dinner. The group would be getting hungry soon. She stood up slowly, stretching. "Guess it's about time to start cooking those squirrels you brought in," she said, picking up the string of them from where it had been sitting between them on the log. He nodded, standing up from the log as well. "You coming up to the main camp for dinner then?" He usually showed up there for meals, but he liked to keep his distance from there in general.

"Dunno, guess so," he replied. She nodded, taking a step backwards toward the camp while still facing him.

"Okay, see you later then," she said softly, and smiled again. He gave her his signature nod as she turned and walked toward the main camp and dinner preparations. Her heart had been hurting for quite a few days now, but at that moment it felt like more of a dull ache. All things considered, it was the best she could hope for just then.


	19. Almost

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Author's Note: It's funny, I wasn't quite sure about the previous chapter, but couldn't quite think of a way to improve it, so I posted it anyway. Based on the reviews I've gotten, it was more than just OK! You guys are so sweet! Thanks so much for taking the time to leave your comments.**

**Season 2, episode 5**

**The Greene Family's farmhouse, late afternoon**

She'd heard the commotion when Daryl had dragged himself back to camp that afternoon. She was glad that Andrea hadn't gotten off a very good shot when she'd thought she was shooting at a walker, or things could have ended up very differently. Carol had already felt immeasurable gratitude to this man before today, and the fact that he'd injured himself so badly while out searching for her daughter just made her feel even more indebted to him. Not only that, but _he'd brought back Sophia's doll_, the one that was so special to her because it had been given to her by a friend at the camp back at the quarry. Carol hadn't even realized that Sophia had had it with her when she'd run into the woods, but Daryl said he'd found it laying on the creekbed. Carol had washed it that afternoon with the soap she used for the laundry while the men got Daryl inside. She hoped that the doll was some sort of sign of better things to come.

She knew that Rick and Shane had pretty much dragged an unconscious Daryl up to the farmhouse to be cleaned up and then stitched up by Hershel. She'd wanted to go in there right away and see how bad his injuries were, even if he _was_ still unconscious, but there'd been so many people around, and with Rick, Shane and Hershel already in that room, she hadn't wanted to be in the way. So she'd busied herself with the dinner preparations for the meal that she and Lori were making for the Greene family and their group to eat together. It felt marvelous to be cooking indoors, in a real kitchen, rather than over a campfire for the first time in what felt like lifetimes. Since she happened to be working in the farmhouse kitchen that day, she could catch snippits of conversations and have a better idea of what was going on in the room where they'd put Daryl to recover for the time being.

At some point later that afternoon, the activity in the house had slowed down. There wasn't much left to do to prepare dinner – a few things were simmering, but everything was under control – Lori had slipped up to the room where Carl was still recovering from his gunshot wound to look in on him, and Carol had heard Rick, Shane and Hershel leave Daryl's recovery room for other parts of the house or camp. For the first time since she'd been inside the house that day, it was mostly still. She could hear faint signs of activity and soft, muffled voices from various parts of the large house, but in general it was as peaceful as a house of that size, which sheltered so many people could be during the day.

Carol checked on the food one more time before wiping her hands on a dishtowel, and walking silently out of the kitchen. She wasn't tiptoeing, exactly, but she was making an effort to walk quietly. She reached the door to the room where they'd taken Daryl earlier that day and paused. She stood still and listened, not hearing any noise, and she tapped ever so slightly on the door with the knuckle of her middle finger. She didn't hear a response, which she hoped meant that he was sleeping. She didn't want to wake him, but she took the chance and pushed the door open gently, just enough to see in at first.

When she had enough of a view of the room to see that Daryl _was_ sleeping, she slowly pushed the door far enough open to let herself in before pushing it closed just as silently. She turned the knob before the door closed fully, the trick to avoiding the clicking sound it would have made when the mechanism caught to hold it, then let the knob go slowly once it was fully closed, and therefore made no sound. She had learned to do this long ago when she was trying her best not to disturb Ed from his alcohol induced slumber, since waking him up would only end one way for her. She took in the sight of him and felt herself flood with a new wave of appreciation for just how injured he was. Besides a thick bandage wrapped around his head, he'd been stitched up where the arrow – one of his _own _arrows – had pierced his side during his fall down the steep hill before he'd landed in the creek.

She could see that he was battered and bruised from all that had happened to him that day, but that wasn't all. The sheet wasn't pulled up high enough to cover his upper body and she could see that besides the new injuries, there were many other scars across his skin, scars that looked like they'd been there a long, long time. Empathy washed over her as she thought about how much they reminded her of her own scars. She crossed the room and took a seat in the chair by the window, where Shane had been sitting earlier that afternoon. From that side she could see his face, as he had fallen asleep partially leaning over on his good, unbandaged side. His face was somewhat contorted and his lips formed what almost looked like a snarl. Whatever he was dreaming about, it didn't appear to be a happy dream, that was for sure.

She sat there, leaning forward in the chair with her elbows resting on her knees, watching him sleep and suddenly her thoughts were wandering to the events of the past few days. Or had it been a few weeks? She felt like it had been years since she'd put a pickaxe through Ed's skull, again and again, and then had been so dazed and overcome that it was all she could do to collapse on the ground nearby, beside that red sports car that Glenn had been so excited to drive back from Atlanta.

It was eerie, but she now saw herself as if from someone else's perspective, sitting in the dirt beside the car, staring at nothing, unable to process anything happening around her. And then in the next second she saw Daryl there next to her. Without warning, the entire scene in front of her erupted in flames, the suddenness of which made her jump in her chair, and she was watching the CDC building explode into a fireball rising into the sky. She blinked and then suddenly a herd was surrounding them as they hid under cars on the highway, Lori holding her back from going to Sophia, and everyone was terrified. They'd thought the danger had passed, until… and just like that, she was watching Sophia run down the hill into the woods all over again. She tried to close her eyes to escape the memory, but it played out just as vividly before her eyes when they were closed as it did when they were open, possibly even more so. She felt herself shudder involuntarily, and she fought to choke back a sob before it escaped from her. Not now, not here.

The barrage of pictures continued before her eyes. Again she saw herself as if from someone else's perspective, sitting on the guardrail of the highway and staring into the woods endlessly. Then suddenly she had blinked again and Daryl was once again sitting beside her. The images sped up then. She saw Daryl marching into the trees to search for Sophia, and then immediately saw him returning without her, looking guilty that he hadn't brought back good news. This pattern repeated itself several more times, and each time she felt more and more frantic, more desperate. Then all at once, when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she was watching Daryl set down the beer bottle holding the Cherokee Rose on the counter in the RV. She hadn't realized until that moment that her hands had clenched themselves into fists until she suddenly felt them relax, and when she looked down she saw the marks from where her fingernails had dug into her palms. The anxiety she'd felt as most of those memories had flooded past her eyes seemed to dissipate, and she remembered the feeling of peace that had come over her when she'd smelled the rose. She knew that it was silly, really, giving so much importance to one tiny white flower. But at the moment, she'd take any silly little thing that would help bring her back from the edge of the desperation that she felt so much of the time, including that very minute.

The flood of memories had finally stopped, and she decided that she should go. Hershel had said that Daryl's injuries weren't severe, despite how they looked, and that given enough time to heal, that he'd be fine. Granted, there was no guarantee that he'd _get_ enough time to heal before something happened that required his action, or before his stubbornness got the best of him and he decided he'd had enough rest, even if he hadn't. But they could at least hope that he would somehow get enough time to recover properly. She stood up and walked the short distance to the bed, pausing to kneel down in front of him for a few seconds, looking at his sleeping face and whispering an almost soundless "thank you." It was only then that she felt the tears on her cheeks, and she wiped them away quickly before leaving the room as silently as she had entered.

…

Daryl awoke slowly in the farmhouse bedroom. He remembered his ill-fated search for Sophia earlier that day: being thrown from the horse, falling down the ravine into the creek, somehow miraculously finding his crossbow, which had been submerged in the water with the only arrow remaining being the one lodged in his side. He'd seen Merle, though he'd known that he'd been a figment of his imagination – if Merle'd really been there with him at the house, he'd have woken his ass up long ago and told him to get the hell out of that bed and stop being such a pussy. He recalled having to slowly drag himself back to the Greenes' property, only to be shot – grazed, really – by Andrea, who'd thought he was a walker. He remembered Rick and Shane picking him up to help him the rest of the way, but that was where his memory ended. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in this same bed earlier this afternoon, with Rick, Shane and Hershel in the room with him.

He stretched slightly and immediately wished that he hadn't. Muscles in every part of his body screamed in protest, and he winced and relaxed back into the mattress. His head was pounding a little, his throat was dry, and he just generally felt like shit. He'd been awake earlier when Hershel had stitched up the arrow hole is his side and he had told Rick and Shane what had happened to him – minus the whole seeing Merle and his brand of "motivation" to get him back up the hill, which he figured he'd keep to himself. After they'd left him alone, it'd been easy to drift off to sleep. If anything, he felt worse now than he had then, as his muscles had had time to tighten up and more and more bruises appeared, as if to add insult to injury – literally.

His mind wandered back over what had turned from just another day out looking for Sophia, to what had almost been the end of him a few different times in the space of a few hours. It had all started with that goddamned snake. It was in the middle of the trail that he'd ridden that horse down next to the creek, and when it hissed, his "borrowed" horse had reared up and thrown him right off. Couldn't have landed on the safe side of the horse, of course… No, naturally he'd landed on the side with the steep drop through the trees, over rocks and straight into the water. It wasn't a little hill, either, it was a long fall and he was pretty sure he'd bumped into every single goddamn tree on the way down. It was steep as shit, and he'd had a crossbow on his back to boot. To top it off, he'd even managed to get one of _his own arrows_ through his side somewhere on the way down! It didn't help him to be pissed off about that, but he was anyway. He was glad that no one'd been there to see his spectacular fall, but even that didn't make him feel that much better. And of course, since the fall _hadn't_ killed him, he still had to worry about climbing back _up_ that goddamn hill.

As bad as his fall had been, it wasn't the thing that made the day so bad. The part that pissed him off the most – even more than being shot by Andrea – had been the manifestation of Merle in his head. He _knew_ that Merle was only in his head, but the voice was relentless, and in his partially delirious state, he had seen him in front of his eyes even though he knew he wasn't there. In a way maybe the no-_nonsense_ talk had motivated him up the hill… maybe he'd have made it up on his own, maybe he wouldn't have. He liked to think that he would have, but who could be sure? Thank god Merle's voice had kept him conscious though, because in the time that he'd laid by the creekbed and had almost fallen unconscious a walker had found him, and he only barely woken up fully _just_ in time to fight him off. Make that a second way he had almost died that day.

The third way he had almost died that day was really more of a "he _could've_ died that day," because Andrea's terrible shot really hadn't put him any closer to death than he'd already been. Thank goodness she hadn't had much target practice and had had the sun in her eyes. But the point was, he could've been shot. He supposed that he must have resembled a walker by the time he was limping back onto the Greenes' property. He had been covered in mud and blood, and trudging along unsteadily. From a distance, he guessed he could understand the mistake. Still, they all hadn't realized that he wasn't back yet? They weren't looking out for him to return? Goddamn those people. Buncha assholes sometimes.

The worst part about all of this was that all these injuries made it harder to go back out looking for Sophia. Now they were all gonna tell him to rest, relax, and all that crap. There was no time for that! Who knew if the rest of those fools were gonna keep going out, or if they'd listen to fucking Shane and give up. Even if they went out, they didn't know what the hell they were looking for anyway. No, he wanted to be out there. He _needed _to be out there. Someone needed to find that poor girl. She _had_ to be out there somewhere, and she and her momma didn't deserve this kinda punishment.

He shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He hated all this goddamn thinking. He hated even more that he was stuck in this bed. It's not like he'd be going out into the woods today, possibly a few days, who knew. It just made the cabin fever worse. There was nothing he hated more than feeling like a caged animal. He heard the sounds of someone walking down the hall toward his door, and he bristled at the thought of having to make conversation. The only thing worse than the thought of staying in that room right at that moment was knowing that he was going to have to stay in that room and make conversation with someone. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to be there, he just wanted…

What the hell _did_ he want?

Hmmm… He wanted whoever was out there to keep walking down the hall and leave him alone. And, well, dinner might be a good thing, too. He had to admit that he was a little bit hungry.

And just like that, the door opened. The footsteps he'd heard had been hers – Carol's. And she had brought him dinner.


	20. Visiting

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 6**

**The Greene Family's farm, day**

The day was warm and sunny, and everyone was busy doing something. There always seemed to be things that needed to be done, for which Carol was extremely grateful. Being busy kept her mind off of other things, like whether or not today would be the day when she'd find out what had happened to Sophia. The not knowing was agonizing, and no matter how busy she tried to keep herself, her daughter's fate never left her mind. It had been so many days now – it felt like _years_ – and she would be lying if she said she hadn't started losing hope. It wasn't completely gone, but she could feel the doubt grow stronger with each passing hour. After all, realistically speaking, a girl of Sophia's age could only be expected to survive out there for so long on her own, and there were so many things that could already have happened to her…

Carol shut her eyes and tried to push the thoughts from her head. She and Lori had finished hanging up the wet laundry on their makeshift clothesline by the campfire, and Lori had wandered off to check on Carl. It was the in between moments, when everyone else was doing something else, that bothered Carol the most. It had been more years than she could remember since she'd had any time when she wasn't doing something for someone else. Now she suddenly found herself without a husband or, for the moment, a daughter – she had no one who needed her. No matter how the peace of being free from Ed had liberated her, the emptiness of losing Sophia almost immediately afterwards had completely negated it. Worse than negated it. She felt lost, purposeless, and not for the first time since Sophia had vanished, completely alone.

She'd heard some of the others say that Daryl had recovered enough to leave the bedroom in the farmhouse that morning and move back to his own tent. While some people might find this to be a step down, a hardship to go from an actual bed, in a house, back to a tent in the yard, she knew that Daryl would probably be much happier. He liked to be away from people as much as possible, and even if he remained in his tent to rest – which seemed unlikely given his impatience with things like resting – at least he'd be closer to the woods that he liked so much. She didn't know whether or not the move had already happened, since Daryl had set up his tent further away from the rest of the group, again, preferring to isolate himself. Deciding that this was as good a time as any to go and find out if he was there and how he was doing, she stopped to grab a water bottle from the meager stock of supplies they had stored in the RV, waving to Dale, who was on watch up on the RV's roof, then set off in the direction of Daryl's tent.

It was quiet as she approached Daryl's small campsite, and the only sound was a gentle breeze blowing through the trees. She approached the tent slowly, but trying to make a little extra noise as she walked. None of them really liked to feel like someone was sneaking up on them after all they'd been through recently. She got to the open flap of the tent and upon peering in, she saw Daryl lying on his back, reading a paperback book called The Case of the Missing Man. His expression was something akin to someone who was being tortured.

"Knock, knock," she called quietly, sticking her head inside.

"Hey," Daryl said flatly, the unhappy look on his face easing a little bit when he saw her. He lowered the book, closing it immediately and setting it down beside him. "Welcome to my castle… er, tent. I'd give ya the tour, of course, but…" he gestured at the various places where he was bandaged.

"It's okay, I think I have a sense of the place," she said seriously, stepping inside and looking around, pretending she was appraising the features of a house. "Some very minimalistic decorating, but I like what you've done with it. Very 'camping-modern,'" she replied with a straight face, before smiling slightly at her own joke. He chuckled and shook his head. The silence stretched a few seconds longer than was comfortable. "Anyway, I just wanted to stop and see how you were doing," she began after a pause. "Sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to your book." She started to move toward the door.

"Nah, stick around a second. I'd do just about anything to avoid readin this book. Could be the worst fuckin book ever written," he replied disdainfully, looking accusingly at the front cover, as if the book should be ashamed of itself, then smacking his fist down on it beside him in mock anger. "Andrea brought it down, I guess it's Dale's… it fucking _sucks_," he said, concluding his informal assessment.

"Now that's a book report like no other I've ever heard before," Carol replied, grinning.

"Pffft," Daryl grunted. As if to prove his point, he tossed the book across the tent toward an empty corner, smiling a little when it hit the ground with a _thud_.

"You can sit down, if you want," he said. "Don't got a chair to offer ya or nothing, but… at least ya know I got no more books to throw." He held up both hands in mock surrender.

"You don't have a chair just in case you have guests? Shocking," Carol joked, knowing how Daryl generally hated having most other people around.

" 'M not much for havin guests," he grumbled.

She knelt beside the makeshift cot he was laying on, which looked like a stretcher that had been secured in place, raising him off the ground a foot or two. "Oh, I brought you something," she said, leaning toward him and holding out the water bottle in her hand. He nodded and took it from her. Even though the situation was different, the role reversal here was clear to both of them. Just this little gesture reminded Daryl immediately of the days on the highway, Carol sitting both by the dismantled sports car, and then on the guardrail… and he immediately felt guilty for lying there on his back, not being out looking for Sophia.

"So, by tomorrow I should be up and around again, ready to head back out to look for Sophia," he began.

She shook her head. "Look tough guy, you had an _arrow through your side_, probably a concussion and I don't even know what else. You need to rest for more than a day." She wasn't a doctor, but that much was pretty clear even to _her_.

"Just hate sittin around, doin nothing when there's important stuff needs to be done," he grumbled. "Like lookin for your little girl, mainly," he added quietly.

She sighed, wishing that it _was_ him out looking with the rest of them today. She had more faith in him than in the rest of them put together, though she wasn't quite sure _why_. There was just something about him… the same way she felt more at peace when he was around than when he wasn't.

"I know, I hate sitting around too," she told him. "Just let the others take care of things for a few days… _please_? You won't heal properly if you don't rest." _I need you to be okay_, she thought.

He was moved by the look of concern on her face, mostly because it wasn't something he was used to. The only looks he was accustomed to getting when he was injured, or really anytime for that matter, were the ones from Merle, or back in the day, from his father, the looks that told him what a stupid, worthless pussy he was to let anything slow him down. It didn't stop with the _looks_, of course, the words were equally hurtful, if not more so. A _Dixon_ didn't stop to recover. A _Dixon_ didn't show weakness. Not ever. This had been made clear to him many times over the years. Painfully so, and any hint of weakness had been rewarded with a new injury to take his mind off of the old one.

Now it was his turn to sigh, fidgeting on his blanket. "I'll try," he replied. "But no promises." He decided to change the subject, and with it, change the focus of the conversation away from himself. "You been sleepin any better?"

She looked down at her lap, wove her fingers together, her mouth suddenly making a thin line as she pursed her lips. She'd already answered the question before she spoke. "No, not really…" she replied, still staring at her fingers. If anything, her nightmares were getting worse.

He thought back to the few nights up on the highway where a few of them had crammed into the RV for shelter, and Carol had alternated between sobbing and having nightmares. He realized that now that they could spread out into tents and have their own space, she was probably still going through the same things, but that now she was going through it without anyone else nearby. Not that being near others _necessarily_ helped – hell, he knew that he _preferred_ to be alone… but knowing as much about her as he did, this seemed like the kind of thing that she would find harder to go through by herself.

He wished there was something he could do to help her, but he couldn't think of anything. He hadn't minded the night – early morning, really – when she'd asked him – no wait, he had offered – to stick around the RV because she said that his presence would help her sleep better. He kinda liked the feeling that just by being there, he made a difference to someone, even though it seemed inconceivable to him.

"Anything, ya know, I can do…" he began awkwardly. _How do you tell someone you barely know that you wish you could make their nightmares go away?_

She shook her head quickly, her face serious. "You've done so much for me already," she said quietly. "I'm not your problem."

"Never said you were a problem," he replied. _Just tell me what I can do to help_, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. This conversation was already getting pretty awkward for both of them, and silence descended upon the tent, stretching longer and longer. They both found ways to fidget with their hands uncomfortably, and Daryl wished he hadn't steered the conversation in this direction to start with.

Finally, Carol stretched her arms above her head and said, "It's probably time I did something useful around here. Thanks for giving me an excuse to take a little break." She smiled slightly, pushing herself up off the ground.

"Thanks for the water bottle," he mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Don't mention it," she replied. "It was definitely my turn to return the favor." She looked at him fondly, taking a step toward the opening of the tent. "I'll see you later… Get some rest," she added sternly.

"Doin my best," he replied, still lying on his back, one hand now propped behind his head. She stepped out of the tent, and he stared at the ceiling, wishing he could walk out into the woods, where he could think about everything more clearly.


	21. Campfire

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Season 2, episode 6**

**The Greene Family's farm, night**

It had been another disappointing day. Though really, she didn't _expect_ them to come back with Sophia at this point, every time the search parties came back without her, Carol's heart broke a little more. Just when she thought that she couldn't possibly feel more miserable, more alone… she did. When Andrea and Shane had come back and said that "the place was overrun," that had made it ten times worse. Not only was her little girl still out there, _somewhere_, but the place where they'd thought she might be was full of walkers! It just didn't seem possible that she'd successfully avoided them for this long… as much as she wanted to believe that she had. The uncertainty was slowly killing her, she was sure of it. This _had_ to be what it felt like to die of a broken heart.

She lay in her tent, not even the slightest bit sleepy. She tried to convince herself to close her eyes, even though she knew what images waited for her if she did, but they would pop back open again of their own accord. She'd barely slept since Sophia had been missing – she couldn't even conceive of how long it had been anymore – days? Weeks? – and yet, despite the fact that she should probably have been exhausted, she was fully awake. Suddenly she couldn't stay in her tent any longer. She sat bolt upright, and was on her feet in seconds. She pulled on her boots and made her way out of the tent. Looking around the camp, she saw that everything was just as it should be. She imagined that the others were all sleeping peacefully, except Dale, who was once again on watch atop the RV. She considered relieving him, but decided against it. No need to call attention to the fact that she wasn't sleeping. They'd all started worrying enough about her insomnia without her making it more obvious.

Slowly walking the short distance to the firepit, she sat down on the hard ground directly in front of where the fire had been hours before, hugging her knees to her chest with her left arm and leaning her head down so that her chin was resting on her knees. She picked up a twig from the ground in her right hand and poked at the embers that had been put out hours ago. It was just something to do, something mindless to occupy her hands. She tried to keep her mind on nothing, but it was hard to do when what she was doing with her hands required no concentration whatsoever. She found herself thinking, once again, of Sophia, imagining what she might be doing or where she might be right at that moment. No matter how hard she willed the thoughts to stop, they kept coming until she wanted to scream. The desire to scream became so strong, it suddenly seemed like the only way to make the images go away. But she knew that she couldn't wake the entire camp without a damn good reason, so she just jabbed more and more violently at the embers, then the ground, with the stick in her hand, until it finally snapped in half. _How symbolic_, she thought, because she felt as though she was about to snap as well.

She was looking around her for another stick when she heard a soft noise behind her. Wide eyed, she wheeled around only to see Daryl approaching her slowly, limping just a little. _What in the world was he doing up here in the middle of the night?_ she wondered. He didn't even come up to the main camp during the _day_ if it could be avoided! He lowered himself down onto a small section of log that sat near the firepit, not far from where she was sitting. Neither of them had spoken, they just sat looking at each other. There was a look on his face that she couldn't quite read, like he wanted to smile, but was holding it back. She continued to look at him in confusion. Finally she couldn't take it anymore. "Daryl, what in the world are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

He shook his head slowly, chuckling a little bit. "Ya know, I could ask ya the same thing…" Realizing that he was right, she joined in, slowly smiling.

"Okay, you got me there, but my tent is _right there,"_ she pointed to her tent. "It's not _quite_ as weird that I'm out here in the middle of the night. What would make you wander all the way up here, Mr. "I'm gonna try to rest and heal?"

He shrugged and looked at the dirt, where his heel was now starting to grind an indentation. "I had a feelin you wouldn't be sleepin, so I just thought I'd come an check on ya. And apparently I was right." He paused, then added, "An besides, I been restin an sleepin all the goddamn time, a person can only sleep so much 'fore their body just wants ta stay awake for a while."

Carol's mouth had dropped open about midway through his answer – right around the time when he said he knew she wouldn't be sleeping and had come to check on her – and she stared at him, unable to believe the words that she had just heard him utter. He had dragged herself up here, in the middle of the night, _to check on her_? It sure as hell didn't happen to her often, but Carol was speechless.

When he didn't hear a response of any kind, Daryl raised his eyes cautiously to look at her where she sat on the ground. Seeing the expression on her face, he smiled just a little. " 'S not a big deal, okay? Was good to walk just a little." She just shook her head at him, unable to believe that someone would do that for her. He was full of one surprise after another, that was for sure.

"Why you sittin out here in the dirt instead of bein in bed like everyone else, anyway?" he added, once again shifting the focus of the conversation from him to her. It made him much more comfortable not to have her focusing on him quite so intently... She acted like every little thing he did for her was a big deal, which he just couldn't understand. He didn't feel worthy of such gratitude. It's not as though he'd found Sophia, for goodness sake!

She shrugged. "I dunno, just felt like it I guess." Looking back at him, she saw that he was looking at her funny, as if waiting for more of an explanation. "I couldn't spend another second in that tent. Couldn't even get my eyes to close. So I came out here and this was just where I saw down, not for any reason. I was sitting here poking a stick at the embers for a while… just something to do…" she trailed off, remembering what had become of the stick. She continued slowly, looking back at the embers as she talked, "…til I started jabbing the stick into the ground, a _little_ too hard, I guess… and it snapped," she finished with embarrassment. "Guess I had more frustration than the stick could handle."

He shook his head at her again, chuckling under his breath and watching her carefully. "Why dontcha get off the dirt and let the sticks feel safe again until mornin? Ya know we got chairs," he indicated several lawn chairs strewn around the campfire area, "got benches…" he leaned his head toward the spot next to him on the log that was used as a bench, along with several others nearby.

She gave him a quizzical smile, stood up and brushed herself off. "Oh, worried about the plight of the sticks, are you now?"

"Pfffft," he grumbled.

She walked over to the log bench and sat down beside him. There was more than enough space for the two of them to sit there without it feeling crowded. She liked hanging out with Daryl. They just seemed to click. She'd been trying to figure it out for a while now, without success. In the end she'd decided the _why_ didn't really matter. Her world – hell, _the whole world_ – was so full of horrible things right now, who was she to question anything that made the bad parts seem not quite so bad?

Without warning, sitting there next to him reminded her of sitting beside him against the red sports car, and along the guardrail of the highway. Her breath caught in her throat for a second, and she took a deep breath to steady herself, grasping the log under her with both hands to hold herself upright. He looked over at her quickly with concern. "Ya okay?" he asked.

She just nodded, closing her eyes for a minute. "They kinda sneak up on me sometimes, when I'm not expecting them," she explained. "Memories, images… certain thoughts… they just startle me for a second… Especially when I'm not keeping my mind occupied by concentrating on something else. It's been happening a lot here, since..." She didn't need to finish her sentence. He nodded. He really couldn't imagine how hard everything had been for her, and yet all he'd seen her do was constantly try to help everyone else. _To keep herself busy, to feel needed_. It made perfect sense when he thought about it that way.

They both grew quiet, lost in thought yet again, but it wasn't an awkward quiet this time. She realized that she hadn't grabbed her sweater from her bag before she came out of her tent, and she shivered just a little against the night air. It wasn't cold, exactly, but it wasn't quite warm either. " 'F we're gonna be here a while, we could build a fire, least a little one," he suggested, having noticed her shivering.

"Sounds good," she agreed, smiling at his thoughtfulness.

She jumped up from the log to grab some sticks. He started to push himself up as well, but she held up a hand. "Stop right there. You're still on the injured list. You get to build the fire, but I'm getting the sticks." He was about to protest, but the look on her face was determined, so he slumped back down on the log to wait. He didn't have to wait long though, because there was a plentiful collection of tree branches of all sizes scattered around the camp area, and Carol was back in a few minutes with more than enough.

It was only a few minutes after that that they were enjoying a small but warm fire and the firelight that came with it. Carol had always loved to watch campfires, fires in fireplaces, any kind of small fires really. The light from the flames was mesmerizing. That was probably her favorite thing about them, and suddenly the night didn't seem so ominous or her head so full of demons. She scooted herself forward off of the log to sit on the ground again, now leaning her back against her it. She held out her hands, palms open, towards the fire and enjoyed the warmth.

"Back in the dirt again, huh?" he teased her.

She just grinned. "Wanted to get closer to the heat. This was a great idea. I could sit here and watch the fire all night." He was pretty sure it was the biggest smile he'd seen on her face since at least before Sophia'd been missing, if not since he'd known her. He knew it was only temporary, but he was glad she could have a break from the sadness that haunted her.

They sat and watched the fire for a while, the light and warmth bringing a sense of peace much bigger than the small fire. Eventually Carol turned sideways towards him, folded her legs under her, and rested her arm, bent at the elbow, on the log. Then she laid her head down on the log, using her arm as a pillow. There was the faintest tinge of color on the horizon to the east, and Daryl couldn't help but think that it was probably about the same time of day – almost morning – as it had been when she had finally calmed down enough to go to sleep the night she'd broken down in the RV, up on the highway. Her eyes were starting to look heavy. "This is perfect," she said, closing her eyes. Their little fire was almost out, but the glowing embers still radiated a slight warmth.

"Get a little bit of rest, okay? It'll be morning soon," he told her.

"Mmhmmm… but I'm not moving from this spot. You can't make me," she replied, still not opening her eyes.

"Wasn't thinkin of it," he chuckled quietly. He stood up slowly, and carefully stretched. "Be right back," he whispered, unsure of whether she was still awake enough to hear him or not.

"Mmmhmmmm," she replied, eyes still closed. He walked the short distance to her tent and got the thin blanket that sat folded there. He walked back to where she was now mostly asleep by the fire, and laid the blanket over her. She smiled and pulled it around her. "Thank you," she whispered.

After stomping out what little glow was left of their fire, he sat down next to her, "in the dirt," as he'd called it, slouching down low and leaning against the log they'd been sitting on. Before too long, he was asleep too.


	22. Empty

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The Walking Dead – except a bunch of merchandise. But I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story.**

**Author's note: It concerns me that the chapters that seem to flow the most easily are the ones where Carol is having a breakdown, and the ones that are the hardest for me to write are the ones where they are happy. I like it think that I have a deep connection with Carol, and not that I like to torture her... but who knows! I'm pretty proud of this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it. **

**Season 2, episode 7**

**The Greene Family's farm, late morning**

He didn't quite know how it had gone so wrong. How, or why, she'd gotten under his skin quite the way she had at that moment. He'd been wrong to be angry with her, and wrong to talk to her that way, and certainly wrong to lose his temper with her – and he knew it. He knew he'd been an ass, and now he felt bad about it. _That part_, the feeling bad, was unusual for him – he didn't usually care how he talked to people. But she was different. What he _didn't_ know was quite what to do about it.

As he crept through the trees at the edge of the Greenes' vast property, his eyes open for any small animals that he could bring back to camp as food, he replayed the scene from earlier that morning in his head. She had come into the stable behind him as he brought the saddle in – had she followed him? – and she had simply tried to tell him that he wasn't well enough to be going out after Sophia – which was exactly what he'd been getting ready to do. He'd pretty much demonstrated how _not_ ready he was by trying to heave the saddle up onto the stand outside the stalls, which wasn't nearly as high as he would have to lift it onto a _horse_, and almost falling over from the effort of it. Still, he couldn't – no, he _wouldn't_ admit – to her or to himself, that he wasn't ready to go out after Sophia. He had told himself that he _had_ to be ready, and nothing was going to stop him.

She'd tried to gently and logically talk him out of it, but he'd ignored her pleas. He had ignored her even when she'd told him, "I can't lose you too." She just didn't know what she was saying. She thought that she cared about him maybe, but little did she know, he wasn't anything worth caring about. There was nothing special about him. He was a no-good redneck piece of trash. With all of his alleged tracking skills he couldn't even find a little girl lost in the woods. A girl who _wasn't_ trying to evade him, was actually _trying_ to be found, and he couldn't even fuckin find her. Yeah, he was pretty worthless. There was nothing special about him. No, she didn't know what the fuck she was talking about.

But the worst part – the _worst_ part – the thing that made him the _angriest_, was that _she_ had given up. She had given up on _her own daughter_. Damn woman should be ashamed of herself. She'd told him "We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl. We don't," as if that was a reason not to go. She wanted him to give up? Not to try? That would be the _ultimate_ failure, as far as he was concerned. He could fail to come back with Sophia a thousand times, but if he found her in the end, then he wouldn't be a failure after all. He could still redeem himself. Why the _fuck_ would she ever ask that of him – to give up? To fail, and make the failure permanent… how _could_ she? This was her _daughter _she was giving up on, not just some kid. He couldn't figure out why he was more determined than she was. No, he was _not_ going to give up. He hadn't been able to save _himself_ back then, and no one else had been interested in saving him, but _he_ would save Sophia. He _had_ to.

He knew he'd crossed the line though, when he'd walked away calling her a "stupid bitch." He'd grumbled it, but it had been loud _enough_ that he'd known she'd heard him. He had been _so_ angry at her at the time, that he'd wanted her to hear him. But saying something that he knew would hurt her so badly, on purpose, and then walking away without dealing with the consequences? He'd acted like a coward, and he knew it. He didn't have to see her face to know what his words must have done to her. This woman had been in pretty much immeasurable pain for the past few weeks straight. She'd lost literally everything in her life – the bad as well as the good. Sure, they'd all lost a lot, but this was different. And there he was, the rock that she had decided to cling to against the current – because even though he didn't know why she was doing it, he knew that she was – and he had released her, no, he had _pushed her_, out into the open water to fight the current alone.

He was so angry right now, with her, and even more so with himself. How _could_ he have done that? No, he knew exactly how he could've done it. He'd done it because he was a fucking asshole with a goddamn bad temper, always had been. He'd been useless all his life, that much had been made abundantly clear to him for as long as he could remember, and this was just further proof. Not _only _was he a failure at finding Sophia, but now he'd caused Carol even more pain, which was the last thing he'd wanted to do. He kicked at the ground in frustration, and took a deep breath as pain radiated through the rest of his body at the sudden movement.

It was then that he stopped walking, slowly realizing that what he was doing right now in the trees couldn't be considered hunting. All he was doing was walking around through the brush, tromping so loudly that he was surprised he hadn't managed to attract walkers, even if he _was_ still within the fences of the Greenes' property. There was no doubt that any animals that were out there would have heard his approach and fled. He cursed angrily to himself and continued walking slowly and aimlessly, not wanting to exacerbate his injury, but definitely not ready to head back to his tent for any more goddamn rest.

…

Carol lay in her tent, staring blankly at the ceiling. She'd been laying that way for what felt like days, but in reality had probably only been a few hours. Lori had come to check on her at some point, telling her she didn't look well. She sure as hell didn't _feel_ well, that much was certain. She thought back on the morning, trying to determine where exactly things had gone so terribly wrong.

She'd seen Daryl heading for the stables at some point earlier that morning, and she'd had a feeling she knew what he was planning to do. She'd caught up with him as he'd been bringing in a saddle, which he had clearly been in no shape to be carrying. Daryl was a strong guy, but just the effort of lifting the saddle onto the stand by the stall doors had been almost too much for him. How the hell did he think he was going to get it all the way onto a horse's back? And after that? What then? She'd called him out on it, because it was the right thing to do. She couldn't let him risk everything for her, or for a girl who might or might not still be alive, even if that girl was the daughter that she loved more than anything in the world.

_Of course_ she wanted him to be out looking for Sophia. _Of course_ she wanted Sophia to be found. Surely he didn't doubt that! But she did _NOT _want any of it happening at the expense of his health or his life. Going out there even in the best and healthiest condition was risky these days – just look at what had _already_ happened to him, for God's sake! In poor health, as he was at the moment, because he hadn't had time to heal properly from his many wounds, it was so much _more _dangerous. She had already found herself alone in the world. She'd lost her daughter, the person she loved _most_. Yes, she barely knew Daryl, but that somehow didn't matter. She just _knew _that he was special and important, even if he didn't seem to know it himself.

Most importantly, he had become special to _her_. She didn't doubt him or his abilities. If anything, she thought him _more_ capable than any of the rest of the group. But she just couldn't stand the thought, the chance, that something even worse would happen to him out there, while he was out there looking for _her daughter_. Not only would she have felt incredibly guilty, but even more than that, she would have been devastated all over again_._ Somehow he had become the one thing left in the world that she could hold onto – figuratively speaking – the one thing that was keeping her afloat, so to speak. The rest of the group was nice enough, they were all becoming closer and closer – they may or may not have been the last group of people left at the end of the world – but it just wasn't the same.

She'd told him that they didn't know if they were going to find her, Sophia, which was the truth. There was no way to know this. In life, especially this new life of theirs, there was no way to know _anything_, especially when it came to surviving in the wilderness. This didn't mean that she didn't still hope they _would_ find her, but hoping so hard for so long was breaking her heart. She was afraid not to hope, but at the same time, she was afraid to _continue_ hoping. Uncertainty was gnawing away at her like a cancer, and she wondered what would actually hurt worse – continuing to hope and being constantly disappointed, or giving up. There was no way to know. All she knew for sure was that she was losing hope. She didn't want him putting himself at risk for something that there was little or no hope of accomplishing. There was no way to express this, of course. Strangely enough, she had felt like her eyes alone had, on other occasions, conveyed what she wanted to say when she looked at him.

This time, however, it had not happened that way.

And so he'd gotten angry at her for seeming to give up. It only made her admiration of him that much stronger, even as his terseness hurt her. She understood why he was reacting the way he was, even as tears slipped down her cheeks. She was angry with herself, too. He'd been _so angry_, even gone so far as to try to hurl the saddle to the floor of the stable, before she'd seen him double over in pain. Despite the fact that she _knew_ he was furious with her, she'd gone to ask if he was alright. She couldn't help it, it was who she was. She was the one who took care of everyone – everyone but herself. It had stung when he'd yelled at her to _leave him be_, but what had knocked the wind out of her and left her feeling the way she sometimes had after Ed had beaten her was when he called her a "stupid bitch." In some ways it was lucky, she supposed, that he'd said it as he was walking away, so he couldn't see her face.

Logically, she knew that he had said it because he was furious with her for giving up. She knew that he wasn't good with words, and it seemed like his feelings often overwhelmed him and sent him running in the other direction. She'd watched it happen before. She knew that there was no way for him to understand how much she was hurting, though he seemed to understand it _better_ than the rest of them. She didn't hold this lack of understanding against him. On the contrary, she admired how hard he tried to help her with her pain without becoming smothering and overbearing. He was just _there_, which was exactly what she needed.

She was furious with herself for starting to give up. She just wasn't strong enough to maintain her hope for so long, and it killed her. It was simply too painful and too exhausting. So yes, she could admit that she was losing hope. She understood that Daryl was angry with her for it. She understood that he was determined, and she understood that he was taking the failure to find Sophia as a personal failure. She still didn't completely understand _why_ he had made it so personal, but it didn't really matter. It showed that he was a kind and caring human being, despite the harsh, antisocial side of him that he tried to show to the world, and that he was showing to _her_ right now. But she knew that that wasn't _really_ him.

Even with all of this understanding, empathy and caring, it did not erase the sting of his last words. He hadn't said them to her face, but that hardly mattered. She had been unable to breathe for a second, feeling as though she'd been punched and kicked with his words, the sting of them radiating through every last inch of her body. It was a wonder that she had managed to remain standing. She had stood in the stable after he'd stormed out, staring after him, for what felt like a very long time, though it was probably not more than a few minutes. Then she'd willed herself forward, slowly, unsteadily, back to her tent without a sideways glance at anything or anyone. Her tears had suddenly stopped when he'd walked away, knocked out of her along with all of the air. She was too much in shock and too hurt even to cry. She would have collapsed there on the stable floor but for the fact that she knew she would eventually have to pull herself up and drag herself back to her tent… and this time, she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to _ever_ pick herself up again. So she told herself she'd better make it back to somewhere she wouldn't have to move from, and pushed herself forward.

So now she lay in her tent, staring blankly at the ceiling. Lori must have been warning people away, and must have either taken care of lunch herself or enlisted someone to help her, because at some point Carol smelled the campfire, and some sort of food cooking, but couldn't bring herself to move. Lori poked her head in with a plate of food and tried to get her to eat, but she just shook her head at her friend, silently begging her to leave her alone. Mercifully, for once Lori didn't seem to need to talk her to death, and she left the plate on the makeshift table in the corner, retreating back through the flap of the tent.

…

Hours had passed since Daryl had ventured angrily into the woods, and he was beginning to feel calmer. The woods always had that effect on him. For whatever reason, it seemed to be the only place that he could process whatever was happening in his life, in his mind, and make sense of it all. He knew _what_ he had done and said, he knew _why_ he had done and said it… and now, finally, he saw that there was no excuse for it. To have made Carol feel even worse on top of everything else? It was simple beyond wrong, and he was going to have to fix it. He was a worthless jackass, he knew, but even _he_ had limits, lines that he knew that it was wrong to cross. He had crossed at least one, and it was time to try to make it right. If she wouldn't forgive him, then he couldn't blame her. He probably didn't deserve her forgiveness. Hell, _he_ probably wouldn't have forgiven him if he were her. But that didn't mean he didn't have a responsibility to try to make things right.

He'd walked past the farmhouse, the stable, and the other areas where he'd seen people gathered, where she often was during the day, and hadn't seen her. Heading toward the main camp, he wondered if she'd be in her tent, though it seemed unlikely. She wasn't usually in there during the day. He remembered all too well that she didn't like confined spaces, and she tended to only be in her tent when she had to be – those few hours when she tried to sleep. He approached the main camp area and saw Lori sitting with Carl, huddled together with a book.

"Ya seen Carol?" he asked gruffly.

"She's in her tent, but I think she's sleeping. She's not feeling well," Lori replied, not looking back up from the book she and Carl were immersed in.

Now he _really_ felt like shit. Worse than shit, the lowest of the low. She was voluntarily in her tent, keeping herself away from people, which was completely unlike her. There was no way she was _sleeping_. He knew how she felt about sleeping. And if she _was_ sleeping, well, that was almost worse, because he knew that sleeping was like torture for her because of the nightmares she had most of the time.

He approached her tent slowly. He wasn't looking forward to this, but he pushed himself forward, ready to take the punishment for his actions. He deserved it, he knew, and she had certainly _not_ deserved to be treated the way he had treated her. The flap of the tent was open, and as he glanced inside he saw a plate of uneaten food on the corner table, and Carol, laying on her back on a thin blanket, staring at nothing, her eyes open but unfocused. He cleared his throat and waited.

She'd been staring at nothing, completely oblivious to the passing of time or the world around her, when she heard the faintest rustling outside, and then saw movement by the opening of the tent. For just a second she hoped that it wasn't Lori having finally decided that she wanted to talk. She couldn't handle the woman right now. Her eyes darted to the opening of the tent, the rest of her remaining perfectly still. Instead of Lori, she saw Daryl standing there. She felt something shift inside her – she couldn't tell if her insides were tightening or easing at seeing him there – and she flicked her eyes back to the ceiling. She couldn't even find the energy to respond to his presence.

He tried not to panic at her lack of reaction. _I did this to myself,_ he thought. "Can I…?" he asked, then stopped. It was a voice she'd never heard from him. He sounded almost timid. Her brain sent the signal to her neck muscles to nod, but the movement was so slight that she wasn't sure if he would even see it. But he must have, because he took one tentative step and then another into her tent, bending down to avoid hitting the ceiling. He took the crossbow from his back and laid it gently on the ground by the entrance, and came to sit cross-legged beside where she lay. She still hadn't looked at him since the initial glance, but as he sat down next to her, she allowed her eyes to shift back to him, curious.

He wove his hands together in his lap and looked down at them. Never had she seen him look _quite_ like this, and she turned her head to study his expression more closely. Suddenly she was overcome with concern for him, wondering what was bothering him so much that he would wear this look, completely forgetting everything that had happened between them only hours before. It wasn't that she suddenly forgave him, but her compassion for others was – had always been – so strong, she was never able to think about herself when she saw someone else who needed her. She suddenly recognized the expression on his face, or at least one very much like it. She knew it because it reminded her of the expression she saw on her own face when she looked in the mirror – the very few times she got that chance anymore.

"I…" he started slowly in a low voice. He didn't know how to go on. It was as though the words were bottlenecked somewhere between his brain and his mouth. There was a pause as he tried to start again.

"I know," she whispered slowly. He looked up at her, his surprise evident in his face. _She knew? How?_

She shifted herself into a sitting position for the first time in hours, so that they sat facing each other. Her expression suddenly resembled a smile, and he might have thought that that's what it was if not for her eyes, which reflected only pain.

He tried again, attempting a different sentence, something less intimidating that what he'd wanted to start with, which was _I'm sorry._ He didn't know why that particular one wouldn't come out, but it wouldn't.

"I wanna show ya something. It's not far," he said quietly, the words finally flowing again. She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice completely yet. He got to his feet, his shoulders hunched to keep his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent, and reached out his hands to pull her up. Her lips curled up ever so slightly at the gesture, not a smile but showing appreciation, and she reached up to take his hands, applying the tiniest bit of extra pressure before releasing them once she was upright. It wasn't even quite a squeeze, but a communication nonetheless. They ducked through the tent opening and walked slowly, without speaking, away from the main camp. Lori happened to look up from the book that she and Carl were still reading just then, and shook her head at the pair. It seemed as though they were the only two who could reach each other.

They continued slowly, walking side by side. The air was different between them somehow. She wasn't angry with him, but she felt... weak. Exhausted. Drained. _Empty_. It was the only way she could describe it. He could sense that something was different about her, that she was not quite her whole self just then. He didn't know exactly what to do, and so they continued walking slowly towards the pond that he had found when he had been out looking for Sophia a few days before. It was a little ways off of the Greenes' property, but he was confident that he could keep the two of them safe. He knew that there were Cherokee Roses by the pond, and he'd decided that showing her those would be a greater expression of what he wanted to say than any words that he could clumsily come up with. And so they walked, silently, carefully, a little awkwardly, but with the knowledge that neither of them was alone.


	23. Numb

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, though it does take up a lot of space on my DVR. "Do we really need all these on here?" my husband asks. "Aren't they all on Netflix?" (Ummm, no! Not season 5!) Some people just don't understand! Anyway, though I don't own it, but I'm having a LOT of fun filling in some of the gaps in the story with what I imagined must have happened, and then dreaming of seeing my scenes come to life, which sadly will only happen in my head. Oh well…**

**Author's Note: For some reason I was more stuck when it came to writing this chapter than any of the previous 22. Thank you ever so much to HarryMakepeace for being my sounding board (and as always, my cheerleader!) and helping me get "unstuck."**

**Season 2, episode 8**

**The Greene Family's farm, day**

Shane had decided that they needed to take care of the problem "once and for all," and had taken it upon himself to open the barn doors so they could do so. Whether the rest of the group agreed or not, once Shane had opened those doors, the others had had no choice to but to help him shoot the walkers that emerged. All of them had been taken care of – a nice way to say shot in the head – as the members of the Greene family looked on in horror. Now everyone stood still, staring at the ground in front of the barn doors that was littered with the bodies of walkers that had once been the Greenes' neighbors and loved ones. It was as though time had been cruelly paused, and this horrible moment had been frozen in front of them. But then suddenly, when they thought that that moment couldn't possibly get worse… it did. It got _a lot_ worse.

They heard a soft growl from behind the partially open barn doors, telling them that there was at least one more walker who had not yet emerged. They watched as that one more walker came through the giant wooden doors. The "person" who emerged was possibly the last one anyone expected… and definitely the last one they _wanted _to see come out of the barn.

_Sophia._ Or what had once _been_ Sophia. All those days spent looking for her, and she'd been in the barn. Maybe not the whole time, but at least since before Otis' untimely demise when they'd first arrived at the farm, according to Hershel.

And just like that, Carol's already broken world shattered into a billion pieces, and she was sure that it would never be whole again. Despite the walls that she had been slowly building around her heart, as day after day the search for her daughter had turned up nothing more than a doll, she could not help but sob to see that what had once been her beautiful baby was now the grotesque monster standing right before her eyes.

She shook, but remained standing, and within seconds she was propelling herself forwards with all of her might. The rest of the group stood and stared, dumbfounded and unable to move. Had it not been for Daryl, Carol would have probably have run to Sophia and thrown her arms around her, and very likely would have then been devoured by her before their very eyes. Luckily for Carol, Daryl reacted quickly and grabbed her with one strong arm as she tried to rush by him on her way to Sophia. She struggled, and together the two of them fell to the ground, but he held her tight.

Just before Sophia's walker reached the members of the group who stood in a line with their guns, Rick stepped past them and raised his, took aim, and fired. The group watched helplessly as the walker that had once been the girl they had searched so long and hard for fell to the ground.

Daryl managed to get Carol to her feet, telling her not to look. He had intended to get her away from the gruesome scene as quickly as possible, but as they stood up she wiggled out of his grasp and ran. This time she ran _away_ from the walkers, the barn, everything and everyone. She only know that she had to get away.

Daryl didn't run after her, but he did follow her. He kept her in his sights as she stumbled across the meadow, blinded by grief. She lost her balance several times, almost landing on her hands and knees, but she managed to stay upright. Before long she slowed to a walk, exhausted, her arms still flailing slightly as she went. Daryl slowed his pace as well, seeing that she was heading for the main camp. He watched as she disappeared into the RV, and took his time making his way there after her.

Carol went inside as she had so many other times before, and sat down at the small table, numb with shock. She hadn't thought the day would ever come, but this time, finally, she had no tears left. Her worst nightmare had come true, as she had feared it would all along. There was nothing left to do now. Nothing to hope for, no reason to go on. Nothing to do but sit and stare out the window and let the others do whatever it was that they would do. The world could go on without her, and there she would sit. The emptiness she felt was so overpowering, and yet, at the same time she didn't feel anything at all. She had built walls to protect herself, and now they were doing just that. She hadn't done it consciously, but as she had lost hope, more and more each day, the walls had grown. In her own way, she had been mourning Sophia for quite some time already without even realizing it.

Daryl stood outside under a nearby tree, eyes on the RV, with a heavy heart. He felt for Carol, knew that he could not begin to comprehend her loss. At the same time, his failure had just been made permanent. There would be no more chances.

_He had failed._ Sophia was gone, and he had _not_ saved her after all.

He'd never really tried to do anything important with his life before this, had always just followed Merle around, when he hadn't been in jail or juvie, and done the stupid shit that Merle had wanted him to do. This was the first time when he'd tried to do something that was _important_, that would have made a difference, made him feel like just maybe he wasn't as worthless as he'd always been told. He had really believed that he could do it, but obviously he had been stupid to believe that. He really_ was_ just as worthless as he'd his father and brother had said he was.

He had not let himself believe that it would end this way. Carol had given up, but he had believed to the end that he would find Sophia if only he tried hard enough. He silently cursed himself in his head, calling himself every horrible thing that Merle and his father had ever called him, plus others that he invented just for the occasion. He didn't know how he would face her – Carol – again, but he knew that hiding wasn't an option. In the end, sadly, she'd been right.

Finally he started walking slowly towards the RV, unsure of what he'd find when he went inside. When he did go up the creaky stairs and inside, he found her sitting as still as a statue at the small table. She didn't acknowledge his presence at first, just continued to stare out the window. He settled himself on the small counter that sat against the wall opposite where Carol sat. When she finally looked at him it was only for a few seconds, just long enough for him to nod slightly at her, before she peered out the window again, her expression blank. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but her stiff silence was a little bit unnerving. He had no idea what to say. The one thing he knew was that there was nothing he could possibly say that would make it any better. So he sat there, still holding the shotgun he had used by the barn, hoping that his presence, which was all he had to give, would mean something.

…

They were having a small funeral for Sophia and the Greenes' family members who'd come out of the barn. Try as they might, no one could understand why Carol hadn't attended, not even Daryl. She was sure that her not being there would just make him even angrier with her, because even if he hadn't realized it yet, she had a feeling he would sooner or later. It didn't matter. Why would it? Nothing mattered anymore. She'd tried to explain it to Daryl – that it wasn't Sophia who'd come out of the barn. It had _looked_ like Sophia, but _her_ Sophia, her baby, she was long gone. Maybe she'd known it all along. Maybe it wasn't that she'd been losing hope, maybe somehow she'd known that Sophia was already gone, and she'd just been slowly coming to terms with it, and letting go. She didn't need a funeral to do something she'd done long ago.

While everyone else was gathered by what was now a small graveyard in the yard of the farmhouse, Carol took off in the other direction for the pond. She didn't have any weapons with her, and she didn't think twice about wandering away by herself, with no protection, without telling anyone where she was going. Again, it didn't matter to her. Why should it? Nothing mattered.

She walked down to the pond and found the place that Daryl had showed her, where the Cherokee Roses were growing. She sat for a long time in the muddy grass and looked at them. The story that Daryl had told her about the legend of these flowers' beginnings on the day he'd brought her the single one in a beer bottle for a vase flashed through her mind. It was his voice she heard retelling the story in her mind this time, too.

Suddenly she couldn't sit and look at the flowers any longer. She reached out and plucked one, pulling the petals off first slowly, then faster and faster, feeling a sudden need to destroy them all. After the first flower, she resorted to pulling the plants out of the ground, plunging her hands into the dirt to get all the way down to the roots, then tugging madly until all of the stems had been removed from the earth, the smaller stems removed from the main ones. When she finished, she sat back and looked at what she had done. There was a tangle of green around her where she sat, piled high atop the grass. She had paid no attention to the thorns that stuck out from the vines, and her hands and arms now stung where the thorns had pierced her skin. No one in the camp was especially clean, because of the reality of the way they lived, though they did their best, but she was now especially filthy. After all, she'd been sitting in the muddy grass and pulling the plants out of the soft dirt, digging with her fingers and flinging the earth around her when she pulled them up.

With a sigh, seeing that there were no more rose covered vines to liberate from the earth, she lay back in the grass with a sigh, spreading her arms out on either side of her. She stared up at the sky in much the same way that she had stared at the ceiling of her tent only a few days before; eyes open but unfocused, not really seeing in front of her and oblivious to the world around her. It was all simply too much.

She wasn't sure how long she had been there, but at some point she began to focus on the white shapes high above her. _Clouds_. She was outside. She barely remembered coming down here, to the pond, but she knew that she couldn't lay in the grass forever, no matter how attractive that sounded at that moment. Every part of her body felt heavy, but she forced herself up to a sitting position, and then pushed past the unwillingness of her body to move any further, making herself stand up.

She suddenly didn't want to be out there alone, though she didn't want to be _with_ people either. She needed to get back to the others, she knew, because she could feel that she was in no condition to make rational decisions. She felt numb all over, which frightened a little part of her brain that knew that what was happening to her was not normal. So she pushed herself back towards the farm, and felt relief when she emerged from the trees and saw Shane in the distance. She didn't know him well, but he'd been in the group from the beginning, and was decent enough from what she did know of him. She pushed herself in his direction, exhausted, dirty and numb, relieved by the feeling that for once, she wasn't going to worry about taking care of anyone else. For once she was going to let someone else take over that role, because she just couldn't do it.


	24. Hurt

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Actually, I'm starting to feel like **_**they**_** own **_**me**_**! :)**

**Season 2, episode 9**

**The Greene Family's farm, evening**

Carol was certainly in shock. She had been moving as if on autopilot since she'd returned from the pond and Shane had cleaned her up. It was almost as if, when he'd washed the dirt from her hands and forearms, the fog that she had been under had lifted. Of course, she was far from being herself again, as was to be expected after such a trauma. However, she was suddenly able to at least function again, even if it _was_ very likely because she had numbed her senses to the feelings of grief that were simply too much. And so she began to fall into her old routines, slowly, if for no other reason than the fact that she needed to do _something_. She cooked, she cleaned, she did laundry. She helped the others in both the farmhouse and the camp, but avoided their eyes, tried not to see the way they looked at her. She was tired of their pity, and now she had it even more than she had when Sophia had been missing.

Daryl had made himself scarce since the funeral. When Carol stood and surveyed the property in between tasks, especially when she found herself on the porch of the farmhouse for a minute, she kept a watchful eye out for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had taken this all very hard – possibly harder than she had herself – and he was angry. She understood that, she had been angry too. But she'd slowly been letting go since Sophia had vanished, without even realizing it – it had been too painful to keep believing – whereas Daryl had believed to the end that they'd find her… so he was facing the reality of her loss for the first time. Carol sighed as she looked out across the open, grassy property towards the woods in the distance. She knew that he needed space, but she missed him already.

And then that evening they hadn't been able to find Lori. There were so many of them on the farm, even though they had lost a few people, and the property was vast, that sometimes you didn't know that someone was gone until everyone gathered together, or if you were looking for that person specifically. Nearly all of them had come to the farmhouse for dinner, with the exception of Hershel, Rick and Glenn, who hadn't returned from town yet, and Daryl, who'd withdrawn to his own campfire on the outskirts of the farm… and that's when they noticed that Lori wasn't there either. Everyone had jumped up from the table and they'd immediately combed the property. Without batting an eye, Carol had volunteered to go and ask Daryl if he knew where she was. She figured that she'd have the best shot of dealing with him out of all of them, despite how he'd probably react to her. But his anger at her didn't matter to her then, only finding Lori mattered in that moment. She wouldn't accept losing someone else, especially not so soon. And also, she missed him, and any excuse to go and talk to him was better than none.

Daryl had heard her coming towards his solitary campfire at the edge of the property. _Why couldn't they all just leave him the fuck alone? Especially her. Hadn't he done enough for her already?_ He pretended he didn't hear her coming. She'd wanted to know if he'd seen Lori, so he told her that she'd asked him to go into town after the guys, and that he'd refused. He was somewhat embarrassed when Carol had implied that he should've said something to someone, because he realized that she was right. He'd stared into the fire, not wanting to meet her eyes. She'd started to walk away, but then she'd stopped and come back towards him. That just made him angrier. It made him want to hurt her even more. "Don't do this._ Please_," she'd begged. They both knew what she was talking about, and he'd refused to meet her eyes once again. "I've already lost my girl." That was the breaking point for him. Whether that was her way of blaming him for losing her or not, that was how he'd taken it. _Dammit woman, IT'S NOT MY FAULT_, he'd wanted to scream at her.

He'd stood up angrily, and gotten in her face, reminding her, "Yeah, that wasn't my problem neither." Then he'd walked away.

But it wasn't enough, he'd still been angry. He'd walked the property for what felt like hours before returning to his solitary camp and taking up his position by the fire again, and had resumed scraping angrily at large sticks with his knife. Anything to try to relieve the frustration that had built up within him… except that it didn't work. Nothing seemed to work.

She'd come back again later that night. He felt as though everything she said to him – which hadn't been much, really – had made him angrier and angrier. To make it worse, she was eerily calm. No tears, not even any sign that she was upset. She just keep looking at him without looking away, her eyes boring into him. Like she knew something, like she was trying to tell him something, but without talking. All it did was piss him off more. He'd tried telling her to leave, going so far as to say that he didn't want her there, and still she stared at him, stared directly into his eyes. The more times he didn't get a reaction from her, the more desperately he wanted one, though he didn't know why.

"You're afraid," he'd told her. "You're afraid cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself. You ain't my problem!" Still, none of that was enough, still she'd stared at him with that infuriating calm of hers. But then he finally gotten to her. He'd screamed in her face, "_Sophia wasn't mine! All you had to do was keep an eye on her!_" That was when he broke through her steely calm. He could see it as she flinched, snapping her chin up and recoiling slightly as if she'd been slapped. He had moved back out of her face but they had continued to stare at each other for several long minutes. Finally, without warning and without a single change in her expression, she'd turned and walked away, quickly and with determination. He found himself exhaling a long breath that he hadn't know he'd been holding all that time.

And suddenly he wondered why the hell he'd been so desperate to hurt her. He'd thought it would make him feel better, but somehow he felt worse.

…

The next morning, things finally settled down. Though everyone had feared the worst, Rick, Glenn and Hershel had finally made it back to the farm safely. Everyone had been gathered in the farmhouse to hear what had happened. Carol stood listening, watching as people once again didn't want to look her in the eyes. No one had known what to say to her since Sophia had come out of the barn, and so for the most part, they'd said nothing. She knew that it wasn't happening with malicious intent, but it was really getting to her by now. She had felt alone enough without being treated like she didn't exist. The only one who didn't try to mask their emotions around her was Daryl. Granted, the only emotion he had shown her so far was anger, but at least it was genuine. He'd looked her straight in the eyes and told her what he thought, which was more than she could say for anyone else.

She approached him in the living room, and just as she came close, he walked away. She saw him head for the front door, and she followed not far behind him. When she went out onto the wide front porch, she saw him there, standing by the railing.

She walked outside, past Daryl and continued further down the porch railing, toward her favorite corner, but still within view of the front door. She looked around at the Greene Family's vast property. Her eyes quickly darted in his direction, but he was looking into the distance, at the treeline, a scowl on his face. For a while, she'd been able to read him pretty well, despite his quiet nature. She wondered how long it would take him to stop being so angry at her. _If_ he'd stop being so angry at her. Their friendship had always seemed so effortless, so comforting… and now suddenly it was as though they were strangers. It made her sad. She had meant it when she'd said she couldn't stand to lose him, too… and now even though he was standing a few feet away, she felt like she'd lost him anyway.

As much as she believed – no, in her heart she _knew_ – that his anger was only directed at her because he didn't know what else to do with it, it stung just the same. Still, she accepted it. Though she knew that it was wrong, she'd noticed herself slipping into her old habit of talking to herself the way Ed once had. She would tell herself that she deserved Daryl's anger, or the group's silence. Then a minute later she'd shake her head and tell herself she was wrong. _This must be what it feels like to go crazy_, she thought as she struggled to silence one inner voice with another. She wished for the ease of what she and Daryl had had before Sophia had come out of the barn – though she had had no idea _what_ it had been. It didn't _matter_ what it had been. She was past questioning something, _anything_, good that happened to her in this miserable new existence – but she wasn't going to be the one to speak first. He was the one who was angry with her, whatever the reason. _He_ was the one working through something. As much as she wanted to help, and to have her friend back, he needed to do what he needed to do. She leaned her cheek against the support column of the covered porch and sighed, staring into space. She felt like she was floating in a void, unable to tether herself to anything.

He didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked in her direction, resting his gaze on her for only a second before looking back at the property in front of them. Logically, he knew he was being ridiculous. How could _he_ be angry with _her,_ for fuck's sake? She hadn't chased Sophia into the woods, she hadn't left her alone in that creek bed, she hadn't failed to find her after she'd been lost… and he _knew,_ though he didn't want to admit it, that she _hadn't_ been implying that it was his fault that she hadn't been found in time. He knew that that was in his head. _She's fucking devastated by this, you jackass! She was telling you that she's already lost enough, and that she cares about you! Don't be an asshole! _So why the fuck was he still angry with her?

_Was _he still angry with her? Or was it just easier to be angry than to let himself care about her? He'd cared about Sophia, without ever really having _known_ her, and look where it had gotten him. Carol? He _knew_ her, without knowing how. He _understood_ her_. _She even seemed to understand _him_, which was simultaneously terrifying and calming. But for what? In the end it would all be the same as it had been with Sophia. Probably worse. Because as he had only just learned, when you let yourself care about something and then you lost that thing, it _hurt._ He hadn't been prepared for _how much_ it would hurt.


	25. Maybe

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. Actually, I'm starting to feel like **_**they**_** own **_**me**_**! :) (And I have to admit, I don't mind at all)**

**Season 2, episode 10-12**

**The Greene Family's farm**

The days that followed dragged on, blurring into each other. She really wasn't paying attention to the passage of time, concentrating solely on what was happening at that moment. She had neither the desire nor the energy to stop and think either forwards or backwards in time. What had happened… it was all too painful to think about, and none of it could be changed. What was to come… what could possibly happen now that would make any difference? She had endured a torturous marriage for so long, praying that something would change, and when it finally had, well, she couldn't say for sure that the change had been for the better. Would she have gone back to her old life with Ed if it meant having Sophia back? She would have done _anything_ to have Sophia back. Especially now, because what did she have left to lose?_ Absolutely nothing. _But she would never _get_ Sophia back, so what was the point? Now she had no one. And so she filled the days trying to keep busy, trying to ease the feeling that she was a burden to the group, though really, she knew that she was.

Daryl continued to avoid her. When they _were_ in the same place at the same time, he would either regard her with a steely glare that gave away nothing, or he would avoid looking at her completely, much like the others. She sighed inwardly each time, cringing for a split second before the reflex she'd trained to numb herself to this pain kicked in, trying to squash the crush of despair she felt momentarily as she told herself once again that she deserved this treatment, and that she would just somehow have to do better if she hoped to deserve better. She had preferred his anger, and now she didn't even have that. She was afraid that on top of everything else, she and Daryl would be stuck in this limbo forever, and that thought was simply too much to bare. No, it was better to concentrate only on what was in front of her in that moment, the only part of her current reality over which she had any shred of control.

He hadn't talked to her in a few days. He still couldn't quite work things out in his head, no matter how long he spent in the woods or how many sticks he pared down to nothing. He couldn't understand all these feelings, which were such a foreign concept to him. He'd seen her around the farm, even been around the group at the same time as her a few times, but he'd decided that it was better not to engage. Better to be on his own. He'd been right at the beginning, and it had been stupid to start to feel differently: he didn't need any of these assholes, anyway.

Didn't need them, didn't _want_ to need them… same thing, right?

…

As he emerged from the treeline behind the barn late one afternoon, he saw Lori and Carol having a heated discussion, their voices carrying across the open expanse that separated him from them just right so that he could hear some of what was being said. He was surprised, since Carol never had unkind words for _anyone_, and he couldn't remember her ever raising her voice before. But something had made her angry, that much was clear. He heard her shouting, "Everyone either avoids me or they treat me like I'm crazy. I lost my _daughter_. I didn't lose my _mind_!" Then he watched her storm away. He felt something twist inside him, knowing that he was now as guilty of this as everyone else. More so, really, because he somehow knew her better than all of the rest of them put together, and he'd done something that had made her believe that he was a decent man – though he still didn't understand _how _he'd done that – and he knew that having made her believe in him and then pulling away had been worse than if they'd never been close to start with. He felt like the shit that he'd always been told that he was. And yet still, he stayed away.

…

It had happened again. They'd lost another member of their group, of what was coming to feel like their family. Dale had been walking outside the fences, upset with the group's plan to kill Randall. Dale had come upon a cow that had been attacked by a walker, and then suddenly the walker had come up behind him. There was nothing that any of them could do for him by the time they got there.

Rick had been overcome with emotion, and had been simply unable to put Dale out of his considerable misery. So without giving it a second thought, Daryl had taken the gun from him and he had shot Dale in the head, to end his suffering and to keep him from turning. It had needed to be done. Sure, Rick was the group's leader, but in that moment, seeing that Rick just couldn't bring himself to do it, Daryl had stepped up. Maybe he didn't feel quite as strongly about wanting to remain outside the group as he had thought that he had, because in the moment he had just known that it was the right thing to do. For Rick.

For the group.

Maybe he didn't want to be on his own, after all.

…

Carol hadn't been at Sophia's funeral, but she did show up for Dale's. That felt wrong somehow, but she'd had her reasons and she stood by them. Still, it was agonizing, standing there by the grave that had been dug for Sophia. It didn't matter that she didn't recognize the body inside as her daughter. It helped that the focus today was on Dale, and she could be alone with her thoughts about Sophia, in a way. Her mind wandered to her baby, and she only heard parts of Rick's eloquent words about the group's idealistic and opinionated father figure.

Though she stood within the group – Andrea to her left and Rick only slightly farther away from her on her right – she felt completely alone, as if there wasn't another human being for hundreds of miles in any direction. It had been the same feeling she'd had for days now, and it actually seemed to be worse when she was around other people. At least when she was by herself there was no expectation that there would be any human connection. Somehow feeling the lack of bonds with anyone while standing in a group of people was far, far worse, because it wasn't supposed to be that way. In reality it hadn't been so long since Sophia had come out of the barn, since she and Daryl had stopped speaking, since the group had inadvertently isolated her – less than a week. And yet, it could have been a million years.

He stood slightly away from the group, maybe five or six steps behind Andrea. He was there with them, but at the same time separate. It was how he had always felt, really. There but not there. Part of the group, but… not. That is, it had been how he had felt until Carol had begun to convince him that he deserved a place with the rest of them. That he was just as good as the others. It was as though she had seen something in him that no one else had seen, that he _himself_ had never seen. He glanced at Carol's back. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, and she was rocking ever so slightly back and forth. She was looking past Dale's grave – he could tell from the angle at which she held her head – no doubt looking at Sophia's. It struck him that this was the first time she'd been to the graves, since she had refused to come to the previous funeral.

Suddenly, he had a flashback to the days on the highway when Carol had sat on the guardrail, refusing to move from her place as she waited, hoping to see Sophia emerge from the trees at any moment. To when he had sat down beside her. He remembered that just sitting there, he had felt her noticeably relax from his presence alone. He sighed quietly to himself, realizing how easy it would be to take a few steps and stand beside her. It was a small gesture, less than a gesture really. It would cost him nothing, but it would mean an enormous amount to her, and he knew it. He didn't understand _why_ such a nobody such as himself meant _anything_ to her, but deep down he knew that he did, though he had fought to deny it. Before he had time to tell himself why he wouldn't do it, he felt his feet slowly moving him forward.

There was a shift in the air behind her, and she noticed the difference at once. She didn't turn around, didn't move a muscle. She remained still, staring at Sophia's grave, the anguish she was feeling written all over her face. And yet, she didn't have to move a muscle to know what had happened. She just felt it. Daryl had slowly taken a few steps forward and was now standing only a few more steps behind the empty space between her and Andrea. If he'd whispered something, she was pretty sure she'd have been close enough to hear it. He was just far enough away for her to know that he was still processing whatever he was going through, but close enough to tell her that he was there.

She could feel his eyes on the side of her face, though she still didn't look at him. Somewhere deep inside she felt the faintest glimmer of hope, less than a spark but more than nothing. After the void she'd been floating in since the last time they had really spoken, it felt like the sun shining directly in her face after a long, black night. She didn't flinch, but she felt herself relax ever so slightly.

He wondered what he was doing, stepping forward towards her, cutting the distance between them in half. What had made him do that? It was as though his feet had acted independently before his brain had been able to react. She continued to stare at Sophia's grave. Her face – he could see it better now - reflected the inner turmoil she must be feeling as she stood there for the first time. Even so, as he stood so close to her, he swore he could somehow _see_ tension being visibly released from her shoulders. How was that even possible? Was it really _that_ easy to do something to help her? _Why the fuck are you still shutting her out?_ screamed his brain. _She don't want nothing from you besides just bein' there! Even __**your**__ dumbass should be able to manage that!_

The ceremony concluded, and slowly everyone dispersed in pairs and small groups, attempting to mutter comforting words to each other. Carol ignored the concerned looks that the others gave her as they stood awkwardly, a few of them attempting to speak to her soothingly, but once again, no one really knowing what to say. She ignored them all, and continued to stand in the same spot, staring at the graves, until they had all gone. She didn't want their pity any more today than any other day. She wanted it even less, actually.

As the crowd had begun to break up, Daryl had backed up the few steps towards where he had stood initially, further away. He was still standing there when she turned around slowly, lost in her thoughts.

The two of them were now the only ones who remained by the graves. She was looking at the ground as she turned around, in something of a daze, and only looked up when she noticed a pair of boots nearby. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and despite the fact that neither of their faces showed any change in expression, it seemed that some sort of understanding passed between them. Then Daryl nodded at her quickly, as he had done many times since they first met, before he turned and strode away. It wasn't much, but, like before, it was more than nothing.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay after all.


	26. Escape

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Walking Dead, and it has been brought to my attention that I think about it too much – the person who said that, who shall remain nameless (my husband) is clearly just jealous… how could you possibly think about The Walking Dead TOO MUCH? :)**

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's still reading! It's hard to believe this is chapter 26 and we're not even **_**quite**_** through season **_**2! **_**Sorry if you think the end of this chapter went a little overboard, I just couldn't do angsty anymore… you'll see… As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave me a review!**

**Season 2, episode 13**

**The Greene Family's farm, night**

Just as Rick and Daryl were getting ready to take Randall off the farm and leave him stranded an hour away, T-Dog had discovered that Randall was _missing_ from the shed where they'd been holding him. Shane had emerged from the woods with what appeared to be a broken nose, saying that Randall had jumped him, then had gotten away, that he was now armed, and that he had escaped into the woods. Daryl, Glenn, Shane and Rick had taken off after him. There was never a question in Daryl's mind of whether he would go – the group needed his help to protect the others. Despite the fact that feeling needed, even feeling a part of the group, was so new to him, he had no intention of letting them down.

_This time, he wouldn't fail. _

The rest of the group had huddled in the farmhouse with the doors locked, afraid that one of two things would happen: that Randall would come back to hurt them, or that the other men _wouldn't_ come back. Or even worse, that _both_ of these things would come to pass.

Eventually Daryl and Glenn had returned – the four men had split into pairs – and had news of a startling discovery. After not having found anything in the direction that Shane had insisted they search, they had gone back to the beginning, where Daryl had used his tracking skills and had picked up the trail that he hadn't seen the first time. They'd encountered two sets of tracks walking together for much longer than Shane had said they should have… as well as a walker who had been Randall before _someone _had broken his neck. Things weren't looking good at all. Daryl was about to go back out in search of Rick – Lori had begged him to – when they heard a gunshot.

And then, once again, what the group had _thought _was a bad situation became the easy part, merely the calm before the storm.

Daryl, Glenn and Andrea were the first ones to reach the front porch, the first ones to see it, to stare in disbelief at the biggest herd of walkers that any of them had ever seen. They were coming over the hill and directly towards the farm. There wasn't time to do anything except find as many guns and as much ammunition as possible.

Chaos erupted then. Lori was suddenly panicking because she couldn't find Carl anywhere. She and Carol had quickly searched the farmhouse and nearby buildings from top to bottom, but he was nowhere to be found. Lori was ready to lose her mind, and Carol, ever the first to be compassionate when someone else needed her, forgot everything that had happened between them and tried her best to reassure Lori that her son was safe, that he must have gone to Rick, that they were probably together. And that _she_ had to leave the farmhouse before it was too late.

But where _were_ Rick and Shane?

Everywhere there was screaming and gunshots, and echoing in everyone's ears was the horrible sound of the walkers' growls. They were _everywhere_. It was as if a nightmare had come to life. No matter how many they killed, more appeared to take their places.

There was no time and no way to flee as one group, to be sure that everyone was accounted for. As much as possible, they loaded into the vehicles that they had, helping each other escape the farm as they could. Carol suddenly found herself alone, being chased by two walkers, towards the shed. The panic she felt had threatened to paralyze her, and it was all that she could do to hold them off. Still, it would not have been enough if Andrea had not gotten to her just then. Then Carol was free and Andrea only narrowly managed to shoot another walker who'd come up behind her, then fell on top of her after she silence its growls at point blank range.

Carol didn't know what had happened to Andrea or to anyone else, all she knew was that she had run, as far and as fast as she could away from the farmhouse. She didn't know how to kill walkers, nor did she have a weapon. Once again she was useless, a burden to the group, and she was almost certain that she wasn't going to make it off of the farm. She was beginning to feel her strength give out as she propelled herself away from the main buildings, towards the road. She didn't know who, if anyone, had escaped the property alive, or who might still be there who could possibly help her.

Then suddenly, not too far off down the road she could see Daryl still sitting on his motorcycle. She summoned every bit of strength she could and released the loudest scream that her lungs could produce, hoping that he would hear her and hoping that though she surely didn't deserve it, he would come back for her.

She continued to stumble forward, nearly ready to collapse, with relief flooding through her body as she heard the motorcycle rumble to life and saw the dark shape approaching. He stopped his bike a few feet from her, and she never thought she could be so happy to hear the words "Come on, I ain't got all day," in his typical sour tone. She had only just loosely slipped her arms around his waist when they took off down the road, narrowly escaping the fastest of the walkers who had been only a few feet behind her.

She closed her eyes against the wind that was rushing all around her, unable to believe that she had made it out alive. The adrenaline that had kept her moving to avoid the walkers had suddenly drained out of her, and she realized that she was beyond exhausted. She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to hold on, to keep her balance and keep herself upright, but she knew that there was no other choice.

They'd been driving for hours, or at least they felt like they had. Daryl knew that eventually they'd need a break. Riding a motorcycle wasn't quite the same as riding in a car. You couldn't just let your passenger fall asleep, and yet you also couldn't talk to them to keep them awake. Even if he _was_ able to stay upright through sheer willpower, that didn't mean Carol would be able to. They hadn't seen any walkers for the past 20 minutes or so of their drive, so he figured that one patch of tree lined back roads was as good a place to pull over as any other. He moved to the shoulder of the road out of habit – the chances of another vehicle coming along were slim, but hey, you never knew, right? – and brought the bike to a stop. Carol quickly and self-consciously released her hands from around his waist, hopping off the seat onto her sore legs. Daryl parked the bike and got down slowly. They stood a few feet apart, looking at each other, at a loss as to what to do next, before Carol broke eye contact, looking at the ground. What had happened at the farm was still such a shock, and this was the first chance either of them had had to stop and process it. He watched her with concern.

"Y'alright?" he asked quietly after a minute or so of silence. It had come out in that low, gravely voice that she hadn't heard since before he'd gotten so angry with her, the one that he had always seemed to reserve only for her. She almost smiled then. She might have if she hadn't been so overwhelmed and exhausted. Hearing that familiar tone again after what felt like a lifetime was like an oasis in the desert. She just hoped that it wasn't a mirage. It was already by far the nicest conversation they'd had in at least a week, and he'd only uttered less than two words.

She nodded her head, hugging her arms around herself and rubbing her hands up and down her arms to combat the chill in the air that had combined with the hours and hours of rushing air. The combination had succeeded in chilling her to the bone.

"We should rest a little while, then make our way back up ta the highway, up by…" he trailed off, not wanting to say _where we left supplies for Sophia_. He let the rest of that sentence go and continued. "If the rest of the group made it out, I think that's where they'll go."

Carol nodded her head again, looking down at the ground. She knew exactly what spot he was talking about, and she knew exactly why he hadn't finished his sentence. Of course she did. Somehow it was like the past week hadn't happened and they understood each other again. Or, she _hoped_ that's what was happening. At this point she couldn't afford to assume anything. She couldn't go through all that again, feeling like the bottom had dropped out of her world. She didn't quite trust herself to speak just then.

"We won't stay here long, maybe an hour," he told her. "Ya cold?" He was looking at her closely now. He suddenly noticed her shivering and realized that she was rubbing her arms to create friction, warmth.

She shook her head slightly, uttering a "no," that barely made it past her lips. It wasn't even loud enough to count as a whisper. She was freezing, but she was alive, and to her that meant that she was fine. Besides, she didn't want to be any more of a burden than she already was, didn't want him to go to any more trouble on her account than was necessary. She could deal with cold. Besides, the tone of voice he was using to talk to her took her mind off the cold. She was just enjoying the fact that suddenly he was talking to her like he had when things had been good, and she was terrified that any minute now he'd go back to angry, or worse, to not speaking to her. She wouldn't ask for a single thing from him if he'd just keep talking to her like his friend again.

He watched her carefully as she tried to tell him she wasn't cold. _Liar,_ he thought in disbelief. It was completely obvious, but he didn't call her on it. _You've been such an asshole to her lately, why would she bother to tell you the truth? She don't want to look weak in front of you, don't wanna ask you for nothin, you fuckin piece of shit, _he told himself.

His head hung a little lower at the thought, before he remembered what he'd promised himself as they'd driven for the past few hours. He was going to find a way to fix it, this, whatever "it" was. The two of them. Their narrow escape from the farm had been a wake-up call to him. Who knew if any of the others had even survived? Of course the odds were that someone had, but nothing was certain anymore. So he had decided that even if he had to do it slowly – 'cause he sure as hell didn't know what the fuck he was actually going to _do –_ he was going to _at least_ stop being a jackass. To her, anyway. She deserved so much better than the way he'd been acting lately. As far as not being a jackass to the others… well, no promises.

"A'ight, well yer not cold, but I think we should build a fire anyway, fer while we're sittin here," he told her.

_Dammit_, she thought to herself, _I forgot it's useless to lie to him._ She nodded, and they ventured carefully in search of firewood and a sheltered spot for their campfire. He walked in front of her into the trees, crossbow ready, keeping her behind him protectively. She hated feeling defenseless, and knew that she needed to do something about that, but she also knew without a sliver of doubt that she was safe with him. She had _always_ felt safe with him.

It wasn't long before they had a small fire started, and she plopped down in front of it immediately, as close as she safely could. She held her hands even a little closer than was probably wise, greedily trying to absorb as much of the heat as possible. Daryl was still standing nearby, watching her.

"Yeah, yer not cold or nothing," he said sarcastically, but not unkindly, shaking his head.

"Busted," she whispered, not even sure if she'd said it loudly enough for him to hear her. She was still staring at her hands, which she continued to hold, palms up, towards the flames. She almost smiled then, but held it in. She wasn't trying to be unkind, but she wasn't going to let him get off that easily either. He at least owed it to her to say _something_ about what had happened between them in the past week. She was understanding, and she may not have deserved much, but she knew she was worth at least that much.

He walked over and sat down next to her, leaving a space between them big enough for a small child, but not an adult. He stared into the flames just as she was doing. She immediately uncrossed her legs, pulling her knees up to her chest in order to make herself smaller, to increase the space between them even a little more. _To protect herself_, he realized. He felt a stab of guilt and realized that he deserved that reaction… but reminded himself that he _could_ fix it. He had realized as they drove away from the farm that his anger at her was gone, and he had suddenly remembered that he _knew_ her, possibly better than he knew himself. He'd already known he was being an ass, and that he needed to stop. Now was the time.

He turned and looked at her as she stared into the fire intently. Yes, they'd been through hell yet _again_ that day, but still, he wasn't used to seeing her like this. No matter what had happened at the farm, he hadn't seen her like _this_. She hadn't been this bad since the quarry, when she cowered before that bastard husband of hers, at least not that he could remember. These days she wasn't usually the distant one. She had become quietly strong in the short time he'd known her, and this new, withdrawn version of her scared him a little. "Ya sure yer okay? Ya not bit or nothing?" he asked with concern. _She's probly been like this the whole time you've been such a jackass to her, ya just didn't know cause ya shut her out, dumbass,_ he told himself. Again, guilt.

She shook her head once again, eyes still on the flames in front of her, her arms now wrapped tightly around her knees. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him as she whispered simply, "It's just… I missed you."

A confusing, swirling mixture of guilt, regret, embarrassment, and a strange warmth that he couldn't quite identify ran down his spine and then spread out through his body. He hung his head, looking at the dirt in front of the fire. He knitted his fingers together in his lap and fidgeted with them.

"I… I'm…" he started two different times. In two different conversations with her now, he had tried to start with the same two words. Somehow he never seemed to be able to get those two stupid words out.

She turned and looked at him then, and suddenly she looked more like herself, and less like this new, withdrawn version of Carol who didn't seem to trust him. Not that he blamed her. He knew that he deserved to have her treat him the way she was now. But the look in her eyes at that moment, it reminded him that they understood each other. _That she knew that he was sorry._ He wondered, not for the first time, how that was possible. _What the hell was I thinking? How did I forget this?_ he wondered to himself.

After holding his gaze for a minute, she whispered "I know," a smile creeping across her face. Suddenly they were having the same conversation as they had had at the farm – if you could call it a conversation. She knew from looking at him that he was sorry. She realized then that she didn't actually need him to _say_ it, exactly, because she could just tell. He _was_ saying it, in a way that only she understood. However, she did need him to prove it, not with one sentence or one action, but by acting like her friend again.

"_Stop_," he said instinctively, in that very "Daryl" way that he always said it. It was more a reaction to the fact that she'd read his mind once again than to her few words or even the knowing smile on her face. That just made her smile grow. He shook his head at her.

He realized that he was smiling back at her in spite of himself, and they both turned their faces back to the fire. No discussion was necessary, they were good again. She couldn't help feeling that despite everything, including the terrible events of that same night, life didn't seem quite as grim as it had when she'd woken up that morning.

They stayed there in what was now comfortable silence for a little longer, letting the fire get lower. Carol was still sitting with her knees up in front of her, but they were no longer pulled in tightly. She had leaned forward, folded her arms across the front of her so that her left hand sat on the outside of her right knee, her right hand rested just below her left shoulder, and her chin was sitting on her right wrist, her head turned at an angle so that she could look back and forth between the fire in front of her and Daryl on her left without having to turn her head. The contented smile on her face said all he needed to know.

Finally Daryl reached across the space between them to nudge her with his elbow. "C'mon, let's get going. Time to go find the others." He pulled himself up off the ground, then looked back down at her, still sitting by the fire, watching him. She stuck out her bottom lip slightly, pouting, but still smiling. He rolled his eyes at her. "Woman, we can have another campfire another day! C'mon." He held out his hand to help pull her up, and she accepted it with a chuckle. They put out the last of the fire and walked back to Daryl's bike, trying to ignore the exhaustion that was overtaking them as the sky grew lighter.

Daryl climbed back onto the motorcycle, holding it steady as she hopped on behind him. As she did, he turned around so he could see her, and said "And for god's sake, this time would ya please hold on tighter to me? Last thing I need is for you to fall off."

"If you insist," Carol replied, shaking her head in disbelief and trying not to let the surprise she felt register in her voice. Not only did she know how Daryl felt about physical contact, but she knew that she had just been given the Daryl equivalent of her own "I can't lose you too," from the previous week. She fought back the smile that was threatening to crack her face wide open, which was silly because he'd already turned back around and couldn't see her. Apparently this was not a mirage after all. As instructed, she wrapped her arms more tightly around his waist. She definitely didn't mind _this _safety precaution.

The bike rumbled to life and Daryl steered them back onto the road, on their way to a spot that Carol dreaded seeing more than almost any other, but hopefully towards people that she prayed were alive. She suddenly felt stronger, that just maybe she'd be able to stand in that spot without falling to pieces, unlike the last time she'd been there.

There were so many things that were so wrong in their world at that moment, but she had only needed one thing to go right.

And it had.


	27. Good

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Walking Dead. Stop rubbing it in! (Wait, what do you mean I'm the one who keeps saying it? :D )**

**Author's Note: Thanks to Poppy P for always finding my factual errors for me – I'm so impressed! Also thanks to everyone who has left reviews on this story. Of course I write it because I **_**love**_** the characters and the show, but I also **_**love**_** hearing that others are enjoying it. :)**

**Season 2, episode 13**

**The highway outside Atlanta, morning**

As they had approached that fateful spot on the highway where so much had happened in the not so distant past, Carol's stomach had been in knots. She had tried to take deep breaths, to tell herself that she was stronger now, that she would be able to stand in that spot, that she would not fall apart this time. After all, she was not alone. Trying to comprehend that simple fact was still somewhat difficult for her, but her arms were around Daryl's waist as the motorcycle sped down the tree lined country roads en route to their destination, and that was all the proof she needed. She told herself to focus on what was literally in front of her, instead of what was figuratively behind her, and she felt herself hold onto him just a little bit tighter. _It will be okay. It will be okay_, she had repeated over and over to herself.

They had been hoping for a miracle – that the others would have made it off the farm safely – and before they even reached the rendez vous point, they knew the good news, that at least some of them _had_ made it. By the time they pulled up to that hauntingly familiar place, they were leading a three vehicle caravan. When everyone stopped and exited their vehicles, they were delighted to learn that so many of them were safe. Lori was reunited with Rick and Carl, Hershel with Maggie and Beth. The other survivors – Daryl, Carol, T-Dog and Glenn, were equally delighted to see so many of them alive. Of course, they had lost people. As a group, they were able to confirm to each other that Shane, Patricia, and Jimmy were gone. They weren't sure about Andrea, but it didn't look good for her.

Carol had stood against the back of an open hatch back, a few feet away from Daryl, listening to the group while breathing deeply to maintain her composure. She felt immense relief that so many of them were safe, these people who were quickly coming to feel like family. After what had happened at the farm the previous night, they all looked at each other in a new light, and she no longer felt as though they were looking at her with pity. The survivors looked at each other with _relief_, nothing more_. _

She didn't feel like the same woman who had sat on the guardrail at the edge of the interstate, staring into the trees. At that thought, her eyes darted for a second to the green at the edge of the road, and a dull stab of pain passed through her, causing her to suck in a quick breath. The feeling was gone again in seconds. While it still stung to look in that direction, it almost felt like she was reliving someone else's terrible memories. Her eyes moved instead to each of the people in front of her, coming to rest on Daryl a few feet to her right. Being here this time felt different.

It had been quickly determined that they needed to move on, having accounted for everyone who had or had not made it off the farm. They split themselves between three vehicles – Daryl's motorcycle, the old, beat up red truck and the newer model SUV that Maggie and Glenn had driven from the farm. As they split themselves into groups for each of the vehicles, Carol had wondered who she should go with. She didn't want to assume that Daryl wanted her to ride with him again, and she stood awkwardly trying to figure out what to do. Then he'd looked at her and turned his head slightly toward the bike, indicating that she should follow him. As the others piled into the cars and the two of them settled themselves on the seat, he turned around to look at her, much like he had when they'd gotten on the last time.

"Y'alright?" he asked with concern in his voice. She couldn't help but smile a little, knowing that he was asking because of where they were, and that he knew what she'd been thinking about while they'd been there. She couldn't get over the fact that he always just seemed to _know_.

"Better this time than last time I was here," she replied with a sigh. All things considered, it was the best she could have hoped for.

"Good. Now hold on," he reminded her as he turned back around. It was so cute when big, bad Daryl acted protective, she thought to herself, her smile growing a little bit wider as she recognized his short reply for what it was: proof that he cared about her.

Carol did as she was told, holding on tightly to him, and the caravan rumbled to life, taking them away from this spot. They were moving on. It really was the only way to survive now, both literally and figuratively… just keep moving on.

…

The red truck had run out of gas, so they'd had no choice but to stop where they did. Rick had decided that they'd camp there for the night, despite the protests of several group members. They didn't have a lot of options, since they couldn't all fit into one of the two cars, even with Carol riding with Daryl on his motorcycle. They'd have to get more gas, but Rick wasn't comfortable with them going out on a run for gas until the next morning. He didn't want any of them to get stuck somewhere else at nightfall, just in case. There were no _good_ options, as had happened to them so often, just multiple bad ones.

And then suddenly the conversation had turned to Randall, to how he hadn't been bitten by a walker but had turned anyway, and Rick had been forced to tell people what Jenner had told him at the CDC: that they were all now infected, and that it didn't matter how they died, anyone who died would come back as a walker. Rick had tried to justify the fact that he had known for so long but hadn't told the rest of them, but the others had been angry with him for keeping it a secret. Rick, frustrated that they had reacted the way they had to his decision, when he felt that he'd made his decision with the best of intentions, stalked away from the group.

Once the others recovered from the initial shock and had had some time to vent their displeasure to each other, they agreed that angry or not, they'd need to start making camp for the night. Not far off the road there was a small enclosure of low stone walls that they determined would make a passable shelter area for the night. At least it provided cover from walkers on a few sides, even if it was open, leaving them slightly less vulnerable. It was the best they could do, so hopefully it would be enough.

Maggie, Glenn, Beth and Carol set about finding sticks they could use as firewood, while Daryl set off into the trees to hunt for some meat that they could eat, since they really had no other supplies besides a few things they'd had in the car. By the time Daryl got back with what he'd managed to catch – a string of squirrels and even a rabbit – they had a fire started and everyone was gathered around. There wasn't a lot of conversation, but it wasn't surprising, considering everything that they'd been through in the past 24 hours. Mostly they were huddled together, grateful for the heat, the light and the fact that they were alive.

Daryl had quickly cleaned the meat and turned it over to Carol and Lori, who'd roasted it the best they could, skewered on sticks over the fire since they had no pans or utensils. It wasn't the first time they'd cooked that way, and they doubted that it would be the last. There were no complaints from the members of the group as everyone was given a meager portion.

Watching from the outskirts of the group where he was leaning against one of the stone walls, Daryl watched Carol purposefully divide the meat between the people around the fire, setting aside a portion carefully for Rick. As she stood and brought him his helping of "campfire meat on a stick," he shook his head in disbelief. He'd just watched her divide the meat deliberately into nine servings, giving one to everyone and leaving one for Rick.

There were ten people in the group.

She walked up and handed him the kebab-like creation with a smile. It was bigger than most of the others that he'd watched her hand around. "Look, a feast on a stick," she said with a glint in her eye as she handed it to him. He took the stick from her hand but made no move to eat it, just continued looking at her. Her face immediately filled with confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Ya know I just watched ya, right?" he asked quietly.

_Uh-oh_, she thought to herself, _I'm busted._

"Watched me… cooking?" she asked innocently, knowing exactly what he was saying but pretending she had no idea.

_Oh, she thinks she can get away with it?_ he thought, laughing a little bit inside. "I watched ya split the food into nine helpins, even though you know well as I do that there's ten of us, and give one to everybody here, set one aside that I'm assumin is for Rick, bring one ta me, and not eat a damn thing yourself," he replied knowingly. He crossed his arms across his chest, careful not to drop his stick of meat. He was actually a little upset with her.

She made a face and looked at the ground, not trying to hide her guilt since she knew it wouldn't work. "I'm not hungry," she grumbled.

"Bullshit," he spat at her in annoyance. " 'M I gonna have to watch ya cook every meal ya make sure ya save yerself something ta eat?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous!" she replied indignantly.

"Might have to actually sit with ya and make sure ya eat though," he said thoughtfully.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Is that the new way of asking someone out on a date?" she joked. His face suddenly blushed beet red, his expression slightly mortified. This was exactly the reaction she was going for, which made her smile. The focus had successfully been shifted away from her, as she wanted it to be.

"_STOP," _he replied seriously, trying to regain his composure. To cover up his embarrassment, he focused on the stick of food he was holding, removed half of the small amount of meat on it and then handed the stick back to her. "Ya better eat this," he growled in annoyance.

She'd expected him to do that ever since she realized she wasn't going to get away with serving everyone but herself. She sighed and accepted the stick of meat without argument, removing a piece and taking a bite of it. They stood side by side and ate their half portions in silence, watching the rest of the group sitting by the fire.

She thought for a minute, then nudged him in the side with her elbow and said, "So, this is how it's gonna be from now on, huh?"

"Yup," he replied without looking at her or changing his expression, not missing a beat. _I hope so, _he thought to himself.

"Good," she answered quietly, exhaling slowly as the corners of her lips curled into a smile.

"Pfffft," he responded, as usual.

_It's funny,_ she thought_, when people used to use the expression "It's not the end of the world," I always pictured the end of the world as… lonelier_.


	28. Never

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but the shirt I'm wearing does say "Keep Calm and Call Daryl." That's close enough for me. :)**

**Author's Note: This chapter is a little different, since it takes place between the seasons and therefore I had a lot less "guidance" from the show than I've gotten used to while writing this story. I'll be linking back up with the story for season 3, so I tried to keep everything in character. At the same time, well, you know I can't resist putting those cute moments in there. Hopefully I managed not to go overboard… I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts! Oh, and as a warning, I made **_**myself**_** cry at one particular point while writing this chapter, so tissues may be a good idea… Enjoy! :)**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**Makeshift camp in the woods, night**

They watched as Rick stalked off through the empty doorway in the stone walls, off into the trees. Everyone was a little bit stunned by the speech he had just given. He'd basically just told them that he was in charge, and if they didn't like it then they could leave the group. They'd all been through a lot, and none of them thought that the decisions that Rick had made up til now had been easy. He'd done alright as leader, for the most part. Still, they were a bit taken aback by his declaration, even those who hadn't known Rick very long.

And yet… they _were_ still alive, and they knew that Rick had played a bit part in that. And since it didn't seem like there was any better option looming nearby, everyone had remained where they were. Leaving the group seemed too much like suicide. No one could survive on their own anymore. A few of them considered it from time to time, but when you really thought about it, leaving the group didn't make sense. Besides, despite all of their disagreements, they'd become like a family.

There were quiet, murmured conversations around the fire after Rick walked away, but soon people began finding a corner to curl up in to attempt to sleep. Their only semblance of shelter was the stone walls that appeared to have once been part of a house, but it was better than nothing. As much as they could, they grouped together near the walls to lay down to sleep, feeling more secure if at least one side of them wasn't exposed to the unknown. Lori was the first one to pull Carl and their few possessions towards one of the walls. Carl laid down facing the protection of the stones, Lori curled protectively behind him. The others soon followed, clumping together as appropriate: Maggie and Glenn, Hershel beside Beth. Rick was pacing outside the walls somewhere, and T-Dog was still on watch. That only left Daryl and Carol now sitting by the fire in silence. It was still a little awkward between them after their earlier conversation about Rick.

Carol fought off a yawn, then reluctantly stretched her arms above her head. Without a word she scooted herself back a few feet so that she was sitting with her back against one of the stone walls. Her legs were bent slightly so that her knees sat up in front of her, and her arms rested against them. After staring into the fire for a few minutes, Daryl glanced back and saw her sitting there, still upright. Remembering his promise to himself, he got up slowly, lifting his crossbow from where it sat beside him. He walked the few steps back towards where she was sitting and sat down next to her, so that there was about an inch of space between their shoulders. He laid his crossbow down in the dirt on the other side of him.

"Still havin nightmares?" he asked, assuming from the fact that she looked like she intended to fight sleep with everything she had that this was the case.

"Yeah," she replied quietly.

They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night around them. Rick replaced T-Dog on watch, hoisting himself up to stand atop one of the stone walls. T-Dog found a spot on the ground and they heard him snoring quietly not long after. They sat listening to the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the night.

"They're usually about Sophia," Carol whispered suddenly. Daryl's eyes darted to the side of her face, turning his head only ever so slightly, but otherwise he kept himself still. He waited for her to go on. "I keeping seeing her being chased by those walkers over and over again. Until they finally _catch her_." Her voice broke on the last words. He couldn't even imagine how painful it had to be for her to relive that every night.

She continued to stare into the fire. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and went on. "In my dream, I know that I should do something, _anything_, but I just _can't_. I stand there helplessly and _watch_ it happen, again and again." He heard the sadness in her voice before he saw the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She turned her head slightly and locked eyes with him, then quickly looked down at the dirt in front of her. Still, he didn't speak. "Other times," she continued, "they're about Ed. Like he was at the quarry… and, before all…. this. He's still in my head sometimes, even when I'm awake. Telling me I'm a burden, worthless."

_So __**that**__ was where she'd gotten the idea that she was a burden,_ he thought.

Daryl had just gone from sympathetic over Carol's dreams about Sophia to angry that Ed was still there as well in only a few seconds. _How dare that asshole still harass her? _he thought. They were dreams, but they were real to her. Worse than real even, because they were the reason that she now refused to sleep. They all needed to sleep when they could, now more than ever. It was the only way they could be alert enough to survive.

She stared into the fire again. "He was there especially the last few… during the time when, uh… when you…"

"When I was bein a jackass," he finished for her, grimacing. She just smiled. "He's gone now, remember?" Daryl said quietly, in as close to a soothing tone as he could manage.

"And so is she," Carol replied sadly in a matter of fact voice.

Daryl closed his eyes, feeling a stab of guilt and knowing that the best he could hope to do was to ease that pain she felt, that he'd never be able to erase it. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, bumping her shoulder slightly with his to get her attention. She looked back at him reluctantly.

"Nah," he said reassuringly. "She won't never be gone. She's watchin over you. Bet she's proud, too."

She could feel tears in her eyes for what felt like the millionth time since that day on the highway and she choked back a sob that threatened to erupt without warning. She wiped away the tears that had escaped down her cheeks with her fingertips and silently cursed herself for not being stronger. "Yeah," she said in a whisper. It was all she could manage to utter.

Silence descended on them again. Daryl didn't know what else to say, and Carol didn't seem to have anything else she wanted to tell him, so they just stared at the fire. After a while Daryl got up, retrieved a few more large sticks for the fire from the pile at the far end of the enclosure, added them to the remaining flames and sat back down beside her.

She watched him as he walked a few paces to where they'd piled extra sticks for the fire, pick out a few large ones, and position them within the existing ones so that their fire would last longer. That little bit of warmth and light made a big difference. It helped to keep the darkness at bay, both literally and within her mind. As he sat back down next to her, she wondered if that was why he was doing it.

They sat against the wall as the night sounds began to make them feel drowsy. He watched her as her eyes began to close even as she sat against the wall. He scooted himself just a bit closer to her, so that their shoulders were touching, and bumped his gently against hers once again.

She felt her eyelids growing heavy, and knew that she couldn't fight off sleep much longer, no matter how much she wanted to. The anxious feeling in the pit of her stomach was just starting to return, when she felt his shoulder bump against hers. She smiled ever so slightly, the anxiety fading just as quickly as it had come. Her eyes drooped and then closed, and laid her head against his shoulder. Maybe this would be one of the few times that she_ wouldn't_ have a nightmare, with him right beside her.

Daryl let his eyes close as well, his head beginning to fall against the top of her head as sleep overtook him.

…

Life had been hard ever since the Turn, but after the relative security of the farm, it had been even harder for the group to readjust to life on the run. It didn't take long, however, before they became very efficient at clearing a house. After the first few weeks, they barely needed to discuss a plan – when they entered a new house, they already knew who had what job. The only variables were the layouts and the number of walkers they did or did not encounter in and around the properties. Slowly, they accumulated a small supply of essentials, still meager enough that they could grab their things at a moment's notice and take it all with them if the need arose, which it sometimes did – but enough that they didn't feel desperate, as they had on the night they'd escaped from the farm with almost nothing.

Today they were holed up in yet another house that was a little too small for the size of their group. But they made the best of it, as they always had. Depending on the situation they found in each house, sometimes they spread out and used the various bedrooms, sometimes they all laid down in the living room, spread between the furniture and the floor. They made it work. After all, it was far better to be indoors than outdoors.

They were waiting for Daryl, Glenn and Rick to come back from a run to a nearby shopping center. Maggie was on watch at the bay window in the living room, which provided the perfect spot to get a view of the entire front side of the house. T-Dog was napping in the back bedroom, since he would be taking a watch shift that night. Lori and Carl were sitting together with a chapter book that they'd found in one of the kids' bedrooms, and Beth was helping Carol in the kitchen as they attempted to pull together something for dinner for the group using what supplies they had scavenged in the nearly empty pantry. Hershel was sitting at the kitchen table keeping the two women company. He'd offered to help them, but they'd assured him that they had things under control.

He smiled as he watched the two together. Beth's own mother was no longer with them, but Carol was a wonderful mother figure for his younger daughter – even more so since they'd been run off the farm by walkers – just as she was with Carl. She seemed different somehow, like she'd left some of the burden of her past behind. Hershel felt that they were truly lucky to have her with them.

Carol and Beth finished serving their combination of canned vegetables and a rarity, Spaghettios, those little canned pasta circles that kids love, and began taking the plates of food to the dining room table. There wan't quite enough room for them all to sit there, but at least they could all eat in the same room. T-Dog joined them just in time for dinner, now up from his nap, and Carol took a plate to Maggie in the front window. The sun was beginning to set, and both women were now getting worried about the three men who hadn't yet made it back.

Carol perched herself at the edge of the window ledge beside Maggie and they sat, holding their plates, but neither of them were eating. They stared out into the darkening street, conscious that the men should have been back hours ago. Something was wrong, one of a million different possibilities, and they could do nothing but sit in the house and wait. It was maddening.

"I'm sure they'll be back any minute," Carol said soothingly to Maggie. The younger girl didn't looked convinced, but smiled back at her weakly.

"Yeah, I'm sure they will," Maggie replied distractedly, her eyes going immediately back to the street, which was now almost completely dark.

Carol stood up, laying a hand on Maggie's shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly before walking back to the kitchen. She wished she actually felt as confident as she pretended to be. There were just too many things that could happen these days, a never ending list of possible reasons why they might not make it back, and the rest of the group would never even know what had happened... _Stop_, she told herself. _You know this isn't helping_.

With a heavy sigh, she set her plate down on the small counter beside the three plates that they had set aside for Rick, Glenn and Daryl. She wasn't going to pretend to eat, there was no point. She'd wait until the guys were back, and she could eat with Daryl.

_Where __**are**__ you? _she thought for the thousandth time.

She was walking back out into the living room when Maggie jumped up with a yelp and ran to the front door. Everyone who was in the room looked up as she threw open the door to reveal Rick and Glenn coming up the stairs, supporting Daryl under his shoulders between them. There were gasps as they came in, and Lori and Carl quickly jumped up from the sofa, making room for Daryl to sit down there. Rick and Glenn released him so that he could take his crossbow off his shoulder and lay it on the floor by the sofa before hobbling over to sit down. He didn't appear to be bleeding anywhere, but he winced as he tried to walk.

"What happened?" Carol gasped. Rick and Glenn dropped the three backpacks filled with supplies on the floor and stepped back, breathing hard. Maggie stood next to Glenn, relief obvious in her face. T-Dog had taken over watch and was stationed in the front window.

"The shopping center was quiet when we got there. We swept it, there weren't more than a few walkers. We took care of them, no problem," Rick said, his breathing slowing down gradually. "We were just about to leave when a herd moved through, and we got cut off from the car. Had to run the other direction and circle back around, but there were too many. We tried to find another car, but we got most of the way back before we found one that worked." Rick stopped to catch his breath again.

Carol sat down next to Daryl on the couch. "Are you okay?" she asked him worriedly.

"Fuckin walker came up behind me, I barely got him in time. He fell towards me and I backed up to avoid him fallin on me, another fuckin one on the ground grabbed me and pulled me down on him. I took care of em, just fucked up my ankle, I think. Hurts like hell." She sighed with relief when she heard that.

"You guys hungry?" Beth asked, suddenly remembering the food they'd set aside in the kitchen.

"Yeah, definitely," Glenn responded quickly. The women smiled, because Glenn _always_ seemed to be hungry.

Carol smiled and stood up, and Maggie followed her. When the two got to the kitchen and Maggie saw the four plates on the counter, she smiled at Carol. "I couldn't eat mine either, not while I was so worried about them getting back," Maggie admitted. Carol smiled back then looked away, blushing, more than slightly embarrassed. The whole group knew that Carol and Daryl cared a lot about each other, even if no one quite knew what was going on between them.

The two brought the four plates into the living room and handed them out to the guys. Carol sat back down next to Daryl with her plate, and he just looked at her and chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothin, 'cept I was just saying to Rick and Glenn that I'd bet y'all didn't even eat because you were waiting for us, gettin all worried." Carol looked across the room and saw that Maggie had retrieved her plate from the window sill where she'd been sitting as well, and that it was also still untouched.

"We were worried about you guys," she told him simply. If Carol didn't know better, she'd have said that Daryl blushed slightly when she said that.

"Pfffttt," he replied, as usual.

After everyone had eaten, the front door was secured and people slowly began to make their way to bed, the backpacks of supplies from the run left untouched until morning. There was one bedroom in the back and two upstairs. Luckily all of them were usable, no dead bodies or other surprises had awaited them there when they'd swept the house.

Carol cleared the dishes from the living room and cleaned them as best she could in the kitchen, her single candle giving off a dim but warm glow. When she was finished she returned to the living room to find Daryl still sitting on the couch. Everyone else had gone to bed except T-Dog, who was still on watch at the front window. She and Daryl seemed to find themselves among the last ones awake pretty often, especially since Carol tried her best not to sleep, until she could fight it no longer.

She set the candle that she'd brought back from the kitchen with the few others sitting on the small table across the room and returned to the spot where she'd been sitting beside him earlier. She'd also brought the first aid kit they'd found somewhere along the way. "Let me take a look at your ankle," she ordered.

" 'S fine," he said stubbornly. She just shook her head at him, and the look on her face told him that she was not going to take no for an answer. She continued to stare at him, holding up her hands and motioning for him to lift up his foot.

"You may be the most stubborn person ever, you know that?" she asked him in frustration.

"Second most stubborn, maybe…" he grumbled, looking at her in mock annoyance as he turned to the side to lift his leg up so that she could examine his injured ankle. She raised her eyebrows at him and grinned, understanding the implication that _she_ was in fact the "most stubborn person ever." She couldn't really argue with that accusation and she knew it. They had that trait in common.

She turned her body and scooted back along the couch so that she could comfortably look at his ankle, which was now in her lap. She gently removed his boot, then his sock, which was, not surprisingly, rather filthy, to reveal a _very_ swollen ankle.

"Yeah, you reallydid a number on this ankle," she told him. "It's pretty swollen." He sat up and craned his neck to get a better look.

"Fuck," he whispered, shaking his head in annoyance.

"I'll be right back," she said, gently lifting his foot so that she could slip out from under it, trying not to hurt him as she put it back down on the couch.

She went into the bathroom and found a washcloth, dipped it into the water that they hadn't boiled, and squeezed it out gently to remove most of the excess water. She returned to the living room and found him still in the same position she'd left him. "Well, it's not gonna work as well as ice, but it's something," she said apologetically. She pulled the pillow from the other end of the sofa and lifted his foot gently, sliding the pillow underneath. She laid the washcloth over his ankle gently and looked back at him. "How's that?"

He frowned slightly, looking around. "I think we need that little table over there," he said pointing to a small wooden table sitting in the far corner of the room. It had been pushed aside when they'd cleared the house. Not sure what he had in mind, she went over to it and discovered that it wasn't heavy. She picked it up and carried it back over, setting it down in front of him. He frowned again, thinking. "Can ya move it back a couple feet?"

She tilted her head slightly, looking at him in confusion, but slid the table away from him, stopping when he nodded. Then she slowly watched him lift his foot off the pillow and start to swivel as he moved his leg from the couch. She shook her head at him, smiling as she realized what his plan was, and picked up the pillow to set it on the table for him. He continued to turn his body slowly, his leg extended, until it was beside the table, then began lifting it. She walked over and gently put her hands under his leg just above his ankle, helping him lift it onto the pillow. Then he relaxed back into the couch cushions, patting the space next to him where she'd been sitting a few minutes before.

Smiling and shaking her head, she sat down next to him again. "Much better," he mumbled, finally smiling slightly.

"After we let it sit with the washcloth on it for a while, I'll wrap it up," she told him. "It would work better with ice, but nothing we can do about that… You need to stay off it and keep it elevated until it stops swelling though." He nodded and grumbled something that sounded like reluctant agreement.

They sat quietly and looked at the few candles positioned in a group on the dining room table, a few feet past the table where Daryl's foot was now elevated.

"Well, it's not as cool as watching a campfire, but having a couch to sit on kinda makes up for it," she said, looking at the candles' glow and leaning back against the soft cushions. After so many days of sitting on the cold, hard ground, sitting on soft furniture was like heaven.

She felt her eyes getting heavy already, but she didn't panic this time. In the past few weeks she'd noticed that if she fell asleep near Daryl, either she didn't have nightmares at all, or if she did, they weren't as bad. Sometimes she even saw herself fighting back in them. Sometimes he was there to save her, though she didn't think she could ever tell him that.

He watched her quickly falling asleep against the couch cushions, and pulled on a thin blanket that he noticed on the other side of him, spreading it over her. She opened her eyes in surprise, smiling when she saw the blanket. "Thanks," she murmured, "but you have to share with me." She reached over to tuck the blanket over him as well, which made him chuckle. Then she leaned back into the cushions, and her eyes almost immediately fell closed again. Daryl smiled in spite of himself, and realized he'd been doing that more and more lately. Then before he had time to think of anything else, he fell asleep as well.


	29. Steady

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. *sniff* But at least I have fanfic.**

**Author's Note: A HUGE thank you to HarryMakepeace for help on this chapter, and for the best trans-Atlantic text-based gun training I could have asked for. Usually I am lucky enough to get to edit her TWD story, Reboot (if you haven't read it, you should, because it's awesome), but this time she got to check mine, since I know absolutely nothing about guns. So if anyone out there finds mistakes in that part of this chapter, please excuse them. I did my best. Hope you all enjoy it. :)**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**On the road, Mid-day**

They hadn't been on the road too many more days when it was decided that everyone in the group who didn't already know how to shoot needed to learn. They couldn't afford to have anyone who couldn't defend themselves, or couldn't contribute to defending the group if the need arose. This meant that Beth, Carol, Lori and even Carl – despite Lori's misgivings about it – needed training. For a former pizza delivery boy who had had no need to know about guns before the Turn, Glenn seemed to have become a suspiciously good shot recently, and most people were pretty sure Maggie had had something to do with that.

They'd arranged a makeshift shooting range one day when they were between stops, in an area with multiple clear possible exit paths, just in case. It was stressful, trying to arrange for the gun training that the four of them needed, knowing all too well that the noise could attract walkers. But it had to be done somehow, and they couldn't learn to shoot without practicing, so Rick, Daryl and T-Dog were to be the instructors, while Maggie, Glenn and Hershel kept watch around the perimeter that they'd set up around their shooting range.

Carol had been jumpy and distracted since she'd gotten up that morning. She'd slept badly – more intense nightmares than usual – and had woken up calling Sophia's name, crying hysterically, more than once before she'd given up on sleeping for the night. They'd been staying in a big house that night, and she'd found herself in a bedroom alone, which she hated. The group members generally took turns sleeping in the bedrooms these days, since there were almost never enough beds. She always tried to defer her turns, let the others take the bedrooms. It felt selfish to take up a precious bed when she fought so hard against sleep anyway. Besides, she hated being there alone. At least if she was in the living room there was usually someone else around. As much as she hated waking up the others when she had a nightmare, she hated being in a bedroom alone even more.

She knew that her exhausted and stressed state was not going to blend well with that day's shooting practice. She'd been distracted by thoughts of Sophia all day, even more so than most days, and she just couldn't concentrate. Rick was leading the training, with T-Dog and Daryl assisting him, and today for whatever reason, Rick's voice was just grating on her last nerve. More than anything she just wanted the session over with. Maybe she wasn't cut out to handle a gun, she thought miserably as she missed the target time after time.

Daryl watched her as her frustration grew with each miss. He tried to show her what to do, but each time he felt like he was getting somewhere and that she was beginning to relax, Rick's voice would ring out from a short distance away and he'd see her tense up again. Finally he suggested quietly that she take a break, and she accepted readily.

He pulled her aside gently, guiding her to sit against a tree. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so tense, and he sat down beside her, but with his body turned to face her.

" 'S wrong?" he asked with concern. She was radiating tension. No wonder she'd been missing all the targets. "Ya look exhausted."

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm herself before speaking. She was beyond exhausted and agitated and really wanted to just curl up in a little ball… but she knew that Daryl wasn't going to let her get away with that. For anyone else, she would have insisted that she was fine, but not him. He'd call her bluff without batting an eye. There was no point in pretending.

"I _am_ exhausted. I kept waking up again last night. Don't think I slept more than thirty minutes at a time, max. I'm just not in the mood for this today. I can't concentrate. And Rick's voice… it's just getting on my nerves," she admitted, pulling at individual strands of grass as she stared at the ground in front of her.

"Nightmares again?" he asked softly, pretty sure that the answer would be "yes."

She didn't even look up, just nodded her head and continued to pull at the grass that was unlucky enough to be directly in her sights.

" 'Ts why you always try not ta take the bedrooms, ain't it? Not ta be in there alone?"

He was watching her carefully, trying to will her to look at him, but her chin wasn't budging. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to dispel the memory of the feeling she'd had each and every time she'd woken up that night. She shivered involuntarily, despite the fact that she wasn't cold.

"So was it Sophia or…?" he asked simply. It wasn't often they uttered Ed's name if they could help it. Usually Daryl just called him "the Asshole," or something like that. He didn't have to tell her what "or" he was referring to, it was understood between them.

"Sophia," she sighed sadly, a tear escaping from her eye. She drew her knees up in front of her and wrapped her arms tightly around them, setting her forehead down against her knees.

As it always did, guilt stabbed at him suddenly, and he wished again that he could have found poor Sophia for her, and saved her from all this pain. _This is not about you,_ he quickly reminded himself. He focused instead on the woman in front of him who was quickly retreating back into herself.

He turned so that he was facing her, but simultaneously beside her, leaning down so that his face was close to her level, his shoulder beside hers. "Hey," he whispered softly near her ear, just to remind her that he was there.

Just hearing his voice beside her, she felt herself relax just a little. She leaned toward the sound of it without opening her eyes, her head finding his shoulder. She was still pulled into a tiny ball, and though he felt a little unsure about doing it, he pulled his arms loosely around her. It certainly wasn't something that came naturally to him, but at that moment he didn't care about his own discomfort, only doing something to help her calm down. She had changed so much, had grown so much stronger even in the weeks since they'd left the farm, and he hated to see her slip backwards like this.

They sat that way under the tree for a little while. At one point Daryl saw Rick look over at them from the firing range, a questioning look directed at him, but Daryl just nodded slightly to say that everything was under control. Rick didn't give it another thought. Whatever was wrong with Carol, Daryl was the one who was most likely to be able to fix it, as usual. That much was common knowledge in the group, even if no one could figure out exactly what _was _between them.

Finally Carol stirred, lifting her head reluctantly off Daryl's shoulder and smiling sadly at him. "Sorry, I've probably been drooling all over you there," she joked quietly, looking at his shoulder.

"Pffft," he replied, letting his arms fall and sitting back slightly, glad to see she was feeling better. "That'd be the _cleanest_ thing this poncho's had on it in… I dunno how long," he reassured her. They both chuckled, not doubting that he was right about that. The world sure was a dirty place without indoor plumbing.

She looked wistfully back toward the rest of the group, who appeared to be wrapping up their lesson for the day. "I wish I could focus today. I _need_ to know how to shoot, I know I do. Rick's voice was just like nails on a chalkboard in my head today." She couldn't even explain why. He'd never bothered her that much before.

"We could try again once they call it a day," he suggested. "Looks like they're windin down." They looked back over at the firing range, where Rick and T-Dog were giving the impression of being pleased overall with the progress of their students. They all looked relatively happy with the day's lesson. Daryl looked back at her. "Whada'ya say? One more try?" Then added, "No Rick or any of the rest of them, just you and me."

She exhaled slowly, nervous at the idea of trying again when she had already felt like quite the spectacular failure at shooting today, but decided that if anyone could help her get it right, it would be Daryl. "Okay," she said, nodding her head in an attempt to convince herself that she could do it. He smiled at her reassuringly.

He pushed himself off the ground and swung his crossbow over his shoulder, then reached down to offer her his hand. She let herself be pulled to her feet wearily, meeting his eyes as she came back to her full height, and he swore he saw the spark that was usually there flare quickly, then settle down to the sparkle that he had grown accustomed to seeing there.

They walked back over to join the others, who were just handing their weapons back to Rick, ready to call this practice session over. Rick looked concerned as they rejoined them. "You alright, Carol?" he asked. She could see that he was genuinely concerned.

She pushed her mouth into a smile and nodded. "Just really tired today, and I was getting frustrated with myself, which made it worse, so it seemed better not to waste the ammo."

Rick nodded understandingly. "It's not an easy thing to learn," he said. "But I know you'll get it."

"We're gonna give it another shot," Daryl said. "Y'all go on back up to the camp, we'll be up there when we're done." _The camp_ was probably a generous way to describe the area where they'd built a campfire earlier. They weren't planning on staying there that night, especially not after they'd been shooting off all those rounds, possibly drawing walkers from who knew how far away, but they didn't have too far to go before nightfall and they could afford another hour or so.

Rick nodded. "Alright. I want Maggie and Glenn to stay here and keep watch for you, though." Maggie and Glenn, who were standing nearby, nodded their agreement. It was common knowledge that the two never minded watch duty when they were asked to take a shift together. Daryl and Carol both nodded as well.

Rick handed the bag of guns and the ammo that they'd been using for their practice over to Daryl. "We should leave in an hour or two," he reminded them.

"Plenty of time," Daryl replied. "We'll see y'all up there soon." They watched as Rick led Carl, Lori, Beth, Hershel and T-Dog back to the day's "camp."

Maggie and Glenn looked slightly sheepish, as though there was something they wanted very badly _not _to talk about. "We're just gonna be over there, there's a good vantage point we found, where we can see most of this area," Glenn said, pointing towards a ridge slightly hidden by trees. "Holler if you need anything."

"A'ight," Daryl said, nodding. The two scampered away, and Daryl and Carol looked at each other, shaking their heads. Carol burst out laughing.

"Somehow I don't think they're gonna be much good for keeping watch," she ventured.

"Like goddamn teenagers er something," Daryl grumbled, looking in the direction in which the two had disappeared and shaking his head again. This just amused Carol more.

He turned back to look at her, almost smirking, returning to the reason they were there. "Ya ready ta get started?" he asked. _She don't look nervous or tense anymore, that's a good start_, he thought.

She nodded, smiling the most genuine smile he'd seen on her face all day. "Yes. Ready," she replied, the familiar glint back in her eyes. She felt like the earlier failure hadn't ever happened. _I can do this,_ she told herself. This was exactly the effect that Daryl usually had on her.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning. The first thing ya gotta think about is how yer standin. 'S the most important, cause ya can't line up with yer target otherwise," he told her. She nodded seriously, paying attention as he talked. He didn't usually like people watching him so closely, but when she did it, it didn't bother him. Hell, he almost liked it. He walked over to stand beside her, facing the makeshift targets that the others had been using. They'd lined up whatever they could find along the narrow boards of a wooden fence, mostly things like old soda cans. Most of their targets now littered the ground around the fence, but it didn't matter. They weren't ready to shoot yet anyway.

He stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder, demonstrating the stance: his feet about one step apart, parallel to each other. She imitated the way he was standing, and he nodded at her. "Good," he mumbled. He touched the middle of her back ever so slightly with his fingertips, and said "Gotta make sure you keep your back straight, too." She wasn't sure if she straightened up as tall as should could because she was following his directions or because of the sudden warmth that she could swear spread through her body when his hand connected with her back. It caught her off guard, but she tried not to let it register on her face. She had to admit, she liked it.

"The trick is," he mumbled, moving his hand away, "ya gotta stay calm if ya wanna be able ta aim right. Gotta hold _perfectly_ still." She tried to demonstrate holding perfectly still, glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes to see him watching her intently. She couldn't help but grin.

"I feel silly just standing here like this," she whispered. _Why am I whispering? _she wondered. _He said stand still, not be quiet._

"Yer doin pretty good," he replied, nodding approvingly. "Keep that back straight," he reminded her, finding the same spot on her back that he had before.

If anyone had been watching them, they would have thought that he was intentionally flirting with her, and that she was purposely relaxing her back to get him to put his hand there again. However, they would've been wrong. First of all, Daryl Dixon did _not_ know how to flirt. Of all the skills he had to offer, flirting or any other socially related skills were not among them. And while it have seemed that Carol would have been more distracted with Daryl's hard on her back, that was exactly the opposite of the truth. Somehow Daryl had a calming effect on her, he always had. The closer he was, the calmer she became. She didn't understand it herself, but she remembered trying to use it to her advantage back when he'd been out looking for Sophia, and couldn't be there to sit on the guardrail with her. She remembered trying to imagine that he was there next to her just to summon up the soothing feeling she felt when he actually _was_ beside her.

Daryl's approach seemed to Carol to be the direct opposite of Rick's. Where Rick's voice had grated on her nerves with every word, Daryl's voice did exactly what it usually did for her – gave her confidence, and made her feel calm and safe. When he was satisfied that she was standing correctly, and after making sure that the safety was on, he gave her one of the guns, just to hold. He told her to relax and stand normally while holding it, so that she could get used to the weight in her hand. "Just hold it for a while. Don't worry about how yer standin, just keep holdin it, so ya get used to it," he told her. That seemed easy enough to her. He tried to distract her from thinking about the fact that she was holding it by changing the subject completely.

"Ya hungry?" he asked, knowing that neither of them had eaten in hours, and that if she said that she wasn't, she'd be lying. He retrieved 2 apples from the bag that he'd carried up from the camp earlier that day. Her eyes grew wide in surprise. Fresh fruit was a very rare commodity these days, since they couldn't stay anywhere long enough to grow any themselves. He thought of tossing one to her, but decided that it probably wasn't wise to throw it at her when she was holding a gun, even with the safety on. He walked over and handed it to her instead.

"Where'd you get them?" she asked, looking at the apple in her hand almost reverently. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had an apple. _How quickly things can change, _she thought, realizing that she had never once been as astounded by a piece of fruit in her entire life.

"Oh, ya know… a tree," he replied with a smirk. She laughed, shaking her head, and would have thrown her apple at him if it had not been such a precious commodity. She did as instructed, and kept the gun in her right hand while holding her apple in her left. When they finished eating, which didn't take long, she threw the core as far as she could toward the targets – not bad for a left handed throw – and he proceeded to throw his, also with his left hand, almost twice as far.

"Pfft," she said, imitating him and pretending to sulk. "Show off."

"Alright, back to work," he replied. She stood straight and ran through what she had learned so far, trying to recreate the stance she had stood in earlier. _Feet apart. Back straight. Calm and still._ She took deep breaths, trying to be as still as possible.

He watched her getting ready, and could tell that she was running through the steps in her head. "Ya look ready," he told her. "How d'ya feel?"

"Ready," she confirmed.

"Alright, c'mon," Daryl said, and began jogging towards the targets. She followed slightly behind him, confused at first, but quickly realized what they were going to do. They jogged over to the fence and found that most of the objects that had been used as targets, while they had some holes in them, were still usable. They set them all back up on the fence, then jogged back to where they had started. "A'ight, get yourself ready again," he told her.

She inhaled deeply and went through the steps in her mind again. _Feet apart. Back straight. Calm and still_. She glanced up at him for his approval. He nodded at her, and she smiled. "What's next?" she asked.

"Now you're ready to aim," he said seriously. "What ya wanna hit first?"

She examined her choices. It didn't really matter. "The Coke can," she replied.

"A'ight, so, how ya feelin with the gun? More comfortable?" he asked.

She looked down in surprise at the hand holding the gun. She chuckled, and said "I'd forgotten that I was holding it."

"Good," he said. "So now let's work on aimin at the target." She raised the gun hesitantly, holding it out in front of her, not really sure what she was trying to do. "OK, just like ya gotta be standin calm and still, ya gotta hold ya arms that way too, and ya gotta get the target in yer sight. Lemme show ya," he walked around and stood behind her, bringing his face level with hers, so that their cheeks were almost touching, raising his arms on either side of hers. It if had been anyone else, it would have been more than just a little bit uncomfortable, even awkward. But it was Daryl, and she felt herself relax, even if she _did_ suddenly feel just a little flushed… She had to remind herself not to relax against him. She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye, which barely required any movement whatsoever since their faces were so close together. He saw the tiny movement and glanced back at her at the same time. "Focus, woman," he said in his deep gravely rumble. Carol smiled and flicked her eyes back to the gun in front of her. _This was definitely better than practicing with Rick._

"So the next thing to remember is to keep your arms steady." He dropped his arms slightly so that he could grip her forearms gently. He felt them trembling slightly. "Focus on yer arms. Ya can't aim right if they're movin all over the place." She took a deep breath and tried to steady her arms. Daryl could feel a difference almost immediately. "Better, ya got it," he told her, releasing his grip on her forearms and moving his hands to her hands, which were holding the gun. There was something reassuring about the pressure of his hands over hers, helping her to steady the gun. "So ya got yer arms steady, now ya gotta get the target in the sight, line it up so ya see the Coke can right through there."

Carol looked and saw the Coke can between the sight lines. She smiled, feeling like she might get the hang of this after all. Being around Daryl always had that effect on her, made her feel like whatever it was, she could do it. Like she wasn't so worthless after all.

"Now before ya can take the shot, ya gotta release the safety, like this," he said, showing her the release level lever. "One last thing ta remember," he said, "is ya gotta take a deep breath, steady yourself one last time, then hold yer breath in 'til ya pull the trigger." She was fairly sure that if she had thought about it, that last piece of advice was some sort of metaphor for her life.

Before he removed his hands from around hers, he checked that she had the gun lined up steadily, then released his grip around her hands and put them back around her forearms, checking to be sure they were steady. Working through the lesson backwards, he then put his arms down and took a small step to one side, placing his fingertips on the spot on her back where he'd started, before withdrawing them and looking down at her feet.

It was as though as he'd stood there so close to her, he'd been radiating not only warmth, the loss of which she noticed as soon as he stepped away from her, but something else that she'd absorbed as well, something unfamiliar to her – confidence. It was as though during those few minutes she'd been somehow infused with it.

Then he took a step back and looked at her stance. "Now clear your mind, just think 'bout whether ya doing all the things we talked about." She tried to think about everything they'd gone over. _Feet apart. Back straight. Calm and still_. _Arms steady. Target in the sight. Safety off._ _Deep breath and hold it in._

"I think so," she said, eager to see if she could hit the target.

"A'ight then, give it a try," he said encouragingly. " 'T's gonna kick back a bit when ya fire, just hold it steady, best ya can." He took another small step backwards so he could get a better look at how she was standing when she fired. She looked to him like someone who'd already had some practice.

She mentally went through all the steps once again in her head, remembering the sensation of warmth and calm that had spread through her when he'd touched her back, when he'd stood behind her. She took a deep breath and held it, feeling perfectly still and calmer than she could remember feeling in a very long time. She squeezed the trigger slowly, then suddenly felt the vibration run through her body, heard the shot ring in her ears. She looked at Daryl shyly before looking back at the target. He was grinning broadly, looking toward the fence. She was afraid to look, but simultaneously dying of curiosity. "How'd I do?" she asked, bracing for bad news.

"Guess you just needed someone with a different approach," he said slowly, looking at her, then motioning with his head to the target. She followed his gaze to the fence, where the Coke can was now laying on the ground.

"Did I hit it?" she asked in surprise, a smile creeping across her face.

"Straight through the middle," he told her. "C'mon, lemme see ya do it again." She blushed proudly, disbelief reflected on her face.

She started to get herself ready for another shot, then suddenly she stopped, lowered the gun and turned to face him. "Thank you Daryl," she said earnestly. "Actually, I don't think I can ever thank you enough for this."

"Pffft," he mumbled, "_Stop_. 'T's not a big deal."

She shook her head slowly. "It's a _very_ big deal to me," she told him. "I never thought I'd be able to do it. I'll actually be useful to the group if I can shoot."

"Pffft. You? Not useful? _Stop_." He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Ya gonna go again?" he asked in mock impatience, changing the subject. She smiled, knowing exactly what it was like to not be able to take a compliment.

"Absolutely," she said, her face now filled with determination, almost excitement, as she got back into position.

This was the beginning of a new Carol Peletier.


	30. Cozy

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but writing my version of it is almost as good… just, ya know, without the huge financial compensation. :)**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**A Hunting Lodge in the Woods, Night**

It was raining, a cold rain that made the temperature, which was uncomfortable to begin with, feel even colder, with a blustery wind to go along with it. The daytime temperatures across Georgia varied widely, from frosty to spring-like, but at night it could feel more like the cold you'd expect to feel in winter, even if snow was rare in this part of the country. Cold rain was certainly not unheard of.

Luckily, they'd managed to find and clear a large house. It resembled some sort of hunting lodge, built out of logs, set on a large property in the middle of nowhere. It seemed to have been mostly untouched since the Turn, so there were more supplies inside that the group had found in any one place for most of the winter. In other words, it was almost perfect.

Dinner had already been cleared away some time ago, and Daryl was sitting on the front porch, on watch. He didn't mind the rain so much, except that it made the cold feel that much colder. There was a small covered porch area, but even the roof wasn't doing much to keep the rain from reaching him, so he'd given up on trying. He hadn't been out there long, and already the dampness felt like it was seeping into his bones. What he wouldn't have given for hot coffee, hell, hot _anything_ right about then.

He heard the door creak open behind him, familiar footsteps, and then the door creaked closed again. He couldn't help but smile in spite of the cold and his foul mood. She came and sat beside him on the top step.

"Look what I found," she said proudly, holding up two thick wool blankets and an umbrella. He couldn't help but be amazed that once again, she had been so thoughtful. He was sure that the others were all inside asleep by now, but she'd been inside going through closets to find something for _him._

"Thanks," he replied, noticing how happy she looked when she handed him one of the blankets, wrapping the other around herself tightly. They were relatively big blankets, but even on her small frame, they didn't quite reach their legs. Once he had the blanket wrapped around himself, she handed him the umbrella as well. They were technically under the edge of the roof, but a little extra protection from the wind and rain was definitely welcome. "C'mere," he grumbled, putting the umbrella up and holding it over the two of them. "Ya sure ya wanna be out here in this weather? 'S freezin."

"Oh, I don't mind," she told him, as if sitting outside in the freezing cold was something she did every day for fun. "You know me."

"Yeah, I know you," he said. "I know you don't wanna sleep, and everyone else inside has gone to bed. 'N I know you musta cleaned everything in that place by yerself cause ya never ask anyone to help ya. 'N now yer gonna sit out here 'n freeze with me… but the reason why you'd wanna do that's the _only_ part I don't know."

She grinned, shaking her head slowly and staring off into the dark. "You don't know me at all, Daryl Dixon."

"Yeah, you just keep tellin yerself that," he replied softly. He could feel her shivering beside him, and realized that there was a more efficient way for them to stay warm, one that the Daryl from before the Turn would have died of hypothermia before suggesting. Hell, he wasn't sure if he'd have offered it to anyone besides Carol now. But for her? Without a second thought.

He closed the umbrella, put it to the side and started peeling the blanket off of his shoulders. She looked at him, confused, as he draped the blanket over both their laps, then smiled in understanding as he pulled it as snugly as he could to try to cover both their laps completely. She scooted a little closer so that the blanket could come closer to getting all the way across, then took her blanket off of her left shoulder, pushing the end of it as far as she could around to his left shoulder. He scooted closer to her, easing his right arm around her back just a little awkwardly under the blanket. He knew she'd say something about this arrangement, it was only a matter of seconds now.

"Cozy," was all she said, in a teasing but not unhappy tone.

"_STOP," _he replied, as usual, " 'S warmer this way." It's not as though they hadn't shared a blanket before, but as _cozy_ as it did feel, being this close always made him a little nervous, even with her. He knew she only teased him to get a reaction though, and he knew that if he'd _really_ minded, she wouldn't have done it. Her teasing was never malicious, she just liked to see him blush. She was definitely the only one who could get away with that. Most people would've been afraid to _try _for fear of being shot with a crossbow, and rightly so_._

"It's true," she said thoughtfully, "body heat and all that." She not only felt warmer, but safer, and perfectly content. Forget about the rain, the cold, the dark, the loss of her daughter, being on the run, nightmares, her abusive dead husband or even the flesh eating monsters that they would probably run from for the rest of their lives. None of it mattered at that moment, as incredible as that seemed.

Suddenly there was a rustling sound in the bushes off to the right side of the porch, near the corner of the front wall. They both sat bolt upright, ripped the blankets off of them and jumped up. Carol backed up from the steps, while Daryl had grabbed his crossbow and held it ready, advancing slowly towards the darkness. Carol grabbed the lantern that they'd had sitting on the porch, walking slowly on the porch in the direction of the noise to help illuminate the source for Daryl. For several seconds they heard nothing but the creaking of the wood beneath her feet. Daryl walked forward silently, even with Carol but on the ground below. This porch wasn't raised as high as the one at the farmhouse had been. She wasn't thinking about the fact that she was walking towards danger that she could be vulnerable to, only that she wanted Daryl to be able to see what he was dealing with. Looking back afterwards, it hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done, and she certainly shouldn't have been that close to the edge of the porch when she didn't have a weapon of any kind. Not one that would do any good against walkers, anyway.

Almost without warning, four walkers came out of the bushes towards them. Three of them lurched towards Daryl and one of them reached over the railing and nearly snagged her as she staggered backwards in surprise, letting out a shriek. It managed to snag the bottom of her sweater, ripping a hole in it, but she threw herself backwards with enough force that the walker's claws couldn't hold the cloth of her sweater. She fell against the outer wall of the lodge with a loud thud, the lantern crashing to the floor. The candle inside went out, but it didn't break. Thankfully it had been made to withstand at least that much force.

She lost her balance as she tripped backwards against the wall, hitting her head as she fell and landing painfully on her left arm. She looked up to see Daryl had already shot arrows through two of the four walkers' heads. He pushed the third one back with a swift kick, and it collided with the fourth one, who was behind it. They stood there trying to regain their balance for a minute, and Daryl took advantage of this time, shooting arrows through both of their skulls as well.

Rick and Glenn burst through the front door just in time to see Daryl finish off the last two walkers. They ran down the steps, looking from side to side quickly to see if there were any other threats. "You alright?" they asked, looking from Carol to Daryl. More people, obviously still half asleep, appeared at the doorway. T-Dog saw Carol on the ground and knelt down to help her up. Even with his help, she had trouble getting to her feet. She felt as though she'd been hit by a car, or at least what she imagined that would feel like. After T-Dog helped her up, she turned to look for Daryl, who appeared unharmed, and saw that he, along with Rick and Glenn, were slowly fanning out across the grass in front of the lodge.

"We need to check around the other sides of the building, at least. We should wait to check the perimeter until the sun comes up. Don't wanna be wandering the woods in the dark," Rick said. The other two agreed.

Daryl said something quietly to Rick that the group on the porch couldn't hear, then strode back up to the porch. He walked up the steps, stopping in front of Carol, who was leaning against T-Dog for support. "Y'alright?" he asked, looking at her with concern. "That walker didn't get ya anywhere?" She shook her head, touched at his concern. She held up the bottom of her thin sweater, showing him the hole it had made.

"That's it, just that hole," she said quietly. Daryl's eyes went wide when he saw evidence that the walker had been that close to her.

"Ya sure?" he asked anxiously. He eyed her midsection, where the hole in her sweater fell, not able to be sure that it hadn't scratched her skin without seeing the proof.

She wasn't thrilled about exposing _any_ of her skin that wasn't normally exposed, but since she knew that her closest scar was at least a few inches from that area, and since she also know that Daryl was _not_ going to be convinced that she hadn't been scratched until he saw proof, she gently tugged the ends of her sweater and the shirt underneath to reveal bare, unscratched skin under the hole in her sweater for about a second before letting the cloth fall back over it. Daryl appeared to relax a little, but still looked at her with concern.

She knew that Rick and Glenn needed him to walk around the building with them, but that he hesitated to leave her there, so she tried to reassure him. "When he grabbed at me I jumped back, hard, tripped and hit the wall, then fell down, banged my head and landed on my arm. But _I'm okay_," she assured him. "I've been hurt worse," she added without thinking, and saw anger flash behind his eyes for a second. She tried to focus him on what he needed to do. "Now, if you guys are going out to check around, _go_. Just… be careful." She whispered the last part, concern now on _her_ face.

"Yup," he grumbled, as he turned back toward Rick and Glenn. The two men turned on flashlights, which lost some of their effectiveness in the rain, and Daryl had his crossbow ready as they advanced slowly into the darkness around the side of the lodge. The others who'd been in the doorway moved inside to allow Carol and T-Dog back in. The two of them moved towards the couch in what must have long ago been a reception area near a large front desk, where T-Dog gently helped lower her down to sit. She thanked him profusely, not at all used to being the center of attention and not particularly comfortable with it. Lori brought her some painkillers that they'd found in a room that had a great deal of medical equipment. They even found a few of those cold packs that were designed to sit in the freezer and then feel like ice on aches and pains. They weren't ready for use yet, but Maggie set them outside the front door, thinking they might be usable a little later if they got cold enough.

The couch was wide, with thick, soft cushions in some sort of dark plaid pattern – it was hard to tell the colors in the dim light. Hershel gave her a quick check up and declared that nothing was broken, just ordered her to rest and take it easy. T-Dog helped her turn so that she was laying down on the couch, per Hershel's orders, and even brought her one of the thick wool blankets that she'd found earlier, though she had no intention of sleeping while the guys were still out checking around the building. None of them were planning to sleep until they got back. There was another sofa across from the one Carol was on, and several matching large chairs completing the square sitting area, and everyone gathered there. They attempted to make conversation, though they were exhausted and concerned. Mostly they just stared at the closed door.

Carol had taken some of the painkillers and now that the adrenaline from the walker attack had drained out of her, she was having trouble staying awake. She looked around at the familiar faces – faces that had become her family – and took a few deep breaths. She didn't want to sleep, but her body was exhausted. Beth noticed the worry on Carol's face from where she sat curled up on the chair closest to her, and she smiled reassuringly. "They'll be back soon," she said softly. Carol just nodded, exhausted. Before she could stop them, her eyes began to close.

The rest of the group was sitting in various states of semi-consciousness when Rick, Daryl and Glenn reappeared at the door about 25 minutes later, soaking wet and looking like they'd found a few more walkers outside – there were a few signs of "remains" on their clothing, despite the rainshower they'd been stuck in. They said that they'd gone halfway around the building before finding any more walkers, but back on that side they'd found about six of them that seemed to have wandered out of the grove of trees not far behind the lodge. From the way they were dressed, they could have been hunters themselves, once upon a time. The three men had taken care of them without too much trouble, and once they'd been sure that there weren't any more walkers wandering in from that direction – which was a tricky thing to do in the dark - they'd gotten the rest of the way around the building without encountering any more. They'd decided to circle the building one more time, to be safe, and hadn't seen anything else. Glenn had the next watch shift, and Maggie volunteered to stay with him, in case he needed backup. The others wandered back to the rooms where they'd been sleeping. They'd cleared the whole lodge earlier, and there were more than enough rooms for everyone.

Carol, miraculously, had slept through the return of the men, so she woke with a start when Daryl shook her gently. He hated to wake her, knowing that she needed the sleep, but he was determined that she was going to sleep in a bed, even if he had to sit there next to her and make sure of it. There were plenty of beds this time, no excuses.

"You're back," she said, smiling sleepily up at him, starting to sit up.

"C'mon," he mumbled, leaning down to talk to her, "gonna find ya a bed." He saw the anxiety immediately fill her face. He shook his head. "Ssshhh, c'mon, 't's gonna be fine. Promise." She looked into his eyes, and she wanted to believe him… but how could he know that? He leaned down and put his arm around her waist, gently pulling her up to stand, trying to avoid the sore spots of her, which was difficult, since there were so many. "Y'alright?" he asked before they started walking. "Aw, shit, I'm gettin yer clothes soakin wet."

Her head was spinning a little, but she'd certainly been through worse with less help, so she just nodded slowly and whispered "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about the water." They started walking slowly towards a long hallway where there were many doors, which sort of reminded her of the long hallway of the rooms they'd slept in at the CDC – except that they thankfully weren't underground, and the hallway was wider. Most of the doors were open, a few of them closed where people were already sleeping. Daryl peered into the rooms as they passed, finding what he was looking for – a room with two beds. No need to make things more awkward than necessary, no matter how much they liked each other. He steered her carefully through the doorway, flashing the flashlight to illuminate the room. Moonlight shone in from the window where the curtains had been left open. It might not be good for privacy, but it did help when electricity was not an option.

He eased her down on the bed closest to the door, just as Beth appeared in the doorway with Carol's bag. She smiled at the two of them as she brought in it, handing it to Carol.

"Thanks, Beth," Carol whispered to the girl.

"No problem, good night," Beth said softly as she left the room.

" 'M not gonna leave ya in here alone fer the night, but I'll wait in the hall 'f ya wanna change, er, whatever…" he said nervously.

"Such a gentleman," she smiled at him. He stood up and walked towards the door, pausing before going through it. "Just holler," he told her, leaving the door slightly ajar as he went out to stand in the hall.

With some difficulty, she changed out of what she'd been wearing into some slightly less dirty clothes from the bottom of her bag. It took her a while, as slowly as she was moving, and she imagined that Daryl was wondering if she'd forgotten him. She finally finished changing, even managed to hobble to the bathroom slowly to splash some water on her face from her water bottle and brush her teeth. Since the bathroom door was so close to the door to the hallway, she walked the rest of way there and pulled it open slowly. She found Daryl sitting on the floor against the wall, head leaning down against his knees, looking suspiciously like he was sleeping.

"Sorry, Daryl," she whispered. "You must be freezing in those wet clothes." His head snapped up in surprise.

"What're you doin over here? Ya didn't have to walk so far on yer own," he said as he got up. He looked at her with concern yet again.

"I'm fine, Daryl, really," she replied. "Come on back in, if you want to."

"Fine, my ass," he mumbled, putting his arm back around her waist to support her and then closing the door behind them with his other hand. He walked her back over to the bed, pulling back the blanket before releasing his arm from around her waist. She sat down carefully, very slowly lowering herself down to lay on the pillow. She was obviously still in pain.

"I will never understand how I took pillows for granted all my life," she sighed as she leaned back on hers, pulling the blanket over herself with her good arm. She glanced at him, standing in the middle of the room holding his bag. "I promise not to peek, go ahead and change," she said, covering her eyes.

"Pfft," he replied, walking to the far side of the room and quickly changing into a somewhat clean plain t-shirt and pair of pants, laying his angel wing vest on a chair and dropping the rest of his clothes nearby on the floor. When she heard the springs creak as he got into the other bed she looked over at him.

He couldn't help but think that she looked so tired, more so than usual. "Y'sure yer alright?" he asked again.

"Of course I am," she replied quietly, "haven't I got the best guardian angel a girl could ask for?"

"Pfft," Daryl grumbled under his breath, but he smiled while doing it. "Ya need anythin, just say so. Don't go tryin ta go get it yerself," her warned her sternly.

"Alright, alright," she conceded. She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I think just maybe I need some more training in dealing with walkers. What do ya say?"

"We can start soon as you heal up from this lil encounter." He figured she was right, and she probably wasn't the only one who needed some training on killing walkers with something besides a gun.

She smiled in the darkness. "Good night, Daryl."

" 'Night."

**Author's Note: It strikes me a little crazy that I'm on chapter 30 and just realized it's the first time I wrote about an encounter with the walkers... of course, the scenes from the actual show generally take care of that for me, but still, it seems funny. Wow, 30 chapters and we haven't even gotten to season 3 yet... thanks everyone for hanging in there with me so far. I appreciate all the reviews, favs and follows. Even *I'm* excited to see what happens in the next chapter... :)**


	31. Nightmare

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I just settle for thinking about it more than is probably normal. **

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**A Hunting Lodge in the Woods, Night**

Daryl'd been expecting it, but that didn't change the fact that when her scream pierced the air a few hours later, he was momentarily thrown into a panic. He sat up bolt straight in bed, instantly awake and aware that the scream had come from Carol in the bed only a few feet away. In seconds he had glanced around, double checking that there was no actual threat in the room. No, they were physically safe. The demons were all in her mind.

He jumped out of bed and before he knew it he was at the edge of hers. There was no time to feel awkward, he sat down beside her without a second thought about what did or didn't make him uncomfortable. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, thrashing, whimpering, and in between, screaming Sophia's name. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. He put his hand slowly, gently on her shoulder, and shook her ever so slightly, knowing that that was her sore arm. She continued to struggle against whatever was happening to her in her mind, now also struggling against his touch. He bent down closer to her, his face near her ear. "Carol, wake up," he said gently.

She stirred a little, but her dream seemed not to want to release its hold on her. "Carol, it's a dream. Wake up," he repeated softly but firmly. She was still for about two seconds before he felt her stiffen under his hand and then flop back down onto her back, immediately wincing from the sudden movement and the left over soreness in her back from the night before. Her eyes flew open and she was breathing hard, as if she couldn't catch her breath. She looked up at him, and he saw relief flood her eyes. "It was just a dream," he said, his gravely tone soothingly familiar to her.

She rubbed her tear stained face with her hands with a sigh. "Sorry," she mumbled, realizing that she had woken him up, and that he was now sitting perched on the very edge of "her" double bed. She scooted back from him towards the other side, giving him more room to sit without feeling crowded, and patting the space where she had been, silently asking him to stay nearby. She knew him well enough that she suspected that he was probably about to back away if she didn't. It would have been classic Daryl. But he surprised her, shifting himself further onto the bed, away from the edge, so that he was sitting cross-legged beside her. She was laying on her back, still trying to catch her breath, and Daryl was still trying to figure out exactly what he could do for her when she reached over and took his left hand in her right, squeezing it slightly.

"Sophia?" he asked gently. She just nodded. "Same dream as usual?" She nodded again, and this time it was him squeezing her hand. "You wanna talk about it?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No," she whispered. She looked so sad just then, it was almost too much for him.

"Hey, that's fine," he said softly. He tried to figure out what else to say that would comfort her, realizing sadly that there wasn't anything that would make this better. She nodded slowly, and when she opened her eyes again the sadness in them was mixed with gratitude. He looked away from her, down at the blankets, uncomfortable with the emotion he saw in her eyes and once again suppressing a feeling of guilt that he had not found Sophia, hadn't spared Carol this endless pain. Dealing with emotions was still hard for him. They sat that way for a few minutes.

"Ya don't wanna hear it, I know, but ya need to get some more sleep," he finally told her, looking back up to see panic in her eyes momentarily. Still, it was the truth, she needed to sleep. " 'S the best way for ya to heal up. Cause if ya wanna learn how to fight walkers, then ya gotta be a hundred percent first."

"I know, but…" she started, gripping his hand tighter. Her face was suddenly anxious again.

"Relax, okay?" he said soothingly, moving to lay down on his right side, facing her, without letting go of her hand. His head was on the pillow that she'd been laying on a minute before, and he could feel the warmth from where her head had been. She turned to look at him, surprise evident on her face. _He was going to lie down next to her? Was she __**sure**__ she was awake?_

Her surprise didn't go unnoticed, and he saw an opportunity to tease _her_ for a change. "Unless," his tone was joking now, "ya know, ya want me to go… back over there?" She shook her head, smiling slightly, embarrassed to admit it. "A'ight then, since you don't wanna sleep, don't go to sleep, just lay there. Whatever ya do, stay awake." She rolled her eyes at him. She'd said that to Sophia more than once herself. "But _I'm_ gonna go back to sleep," he said, closing his eyes. He knew she was exhausted, and hoped that she'd go back to sleep despite the fact that he knew she didn't want to take the chance of having another one of her dreams. He hoped that by staying close to her, he would help her get some sleep.

They were about a foot apart, maybe a little more, their fingers still laced together, his left hand with her right, their hands resting part-way between them.

"Daryl," she said softly, and his eyes popped open again.

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna freeze," she told him matter-of-factly, "Get under the blanket." It was less of a suggestion, almost an order. He blushed, instantly looking uncomfortable. Yes, they'd been under the same blankets when they'd been outside just a little while ago, as well as other times on other days, and they'd been sitting much closer together then… but something about the fact that they were also laying on a bed made this situation feel much different, _much_ more awkward, to him. She rolled her eyes at him again, then said teasingly "If you're worried, I promise to stay on my side." He glanced at her and saw that she was grinning. She couldn't help it. Big, tough Daryl Dixon blushing was just too darn cute, and she always seemed to know how to get that reaction out of him.

"Pffft… _STOP," _he grunted. He let go of her hand long enough to get under the covers, then, when he had settled himself, he found it again exactly where he'd left it. He felt simultaneously _intensely_ uncomfortable while also completely relaxed. Being this close to her seemed to have that effect on him, and he didn't begin to understand it. He pushed the confusion out of his mind and just laid there.

"You can take your hand back if you want," she said, figuring that he probably did. She felt silly, like a teenager, and yet… she liked it.

" 'F it's gonna make ya feel better, it's fine."

She blinked in surprise. "You _sure?"_

"Yup."

She watched him as he settled himself under the covers. He looked flustered, and yet… he was still there. She was surprised that he hadn't gone back to the other bed, and she _really_ hadn't been sure that he would get under the blankets, despite what logical sense it made. It was a cold night. There was no heat. But this was Daryl, and she knew that despite how much he cared – and no matter how much she _didn't_ understand about what they were to each other, she knew that he did care – it was hard for him. When emotions were involved, he was still getting the hang of things. His first reaction was always to back away, and by now she was used to that.

She was laying on her back, frowning up at the ceiling and concentrating on forgetting the images from her dream. She could feel him watching her, and she turned her head to the side and looked at him. He'd been so tense a few minutes before, and yet somehow now the tension was gone, and he was watching her with only concern in his eyes. He didn't say anything, just squeezed her hand gently. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. She watched as his eyelids grew heavy, and soon he had fallen back to sleep.

She didn't expect to sleep for the rest of the night, even hoped that she wouldn't. She wasn't ready to face the nightmares again for the second time in one night. However, the sound of Daryl's breathing beside her seemed to lull her into semi-consciousness, and despite her best efforts, she too fell back to sleep. Her last thought before she did was to wonder at how safe she felt every time she fell asleep beside him – usually by a campfire – and how her nightmares had been kept, so far at least, at bay merely by his close proximity.

…

A week later, Carol had healed up nicely. They hadn't seen any more walkers since the night of the episode outside the lodge, but they weren't foolish enough to think that they were safe. It was always just a matter of time. The group had enjoyed the chance to rest, to recover, to sleep in beds again for a change, but they knew that they couldn't stay at the lodge much longer. There was no way to secure the whole property, and they knew that they'd have to move on very soon.

Carol and Daryl's encounter with the walkers had been a wake-up call to the rest of the group as well. Of course, they'd been facing the threat of walkers for a long time now, but just as they had realized recently that the whole group needed to have gun training, they now understood that they needed to be trained to kill walkers with quieter weapons as well. Not only was the supply of ammunition limited, unlike the amount of walkers that they could encounter, but many times the noise from guns only made the problem worse, as it drew more walkers to them. So for the past few days the others had started training. This type of training worked better one on one, so those who were already comfortable killing walkers with knives, mainly Rick and Daryl, were training the others separately whenever there was time.

Today was to be Carol's first attempt at this knife training, and it had gone without saying that Daryl would be the one to teach her. They were outside in the yard not far from the lodge, within view of the spot where they had encountered the real walkers only the week before. The sun was shining, though the air was still chilly, but Carol felt ready. She had conquered her fear of guns, and her aim was improving every time she practiced. She was confident that she could do this as well, and she liked that feeling.

"Okay, first thing to remember," Daryl said seriously, "is that you have one big advantage over the walkers. You can _think_. They're just actin on instinct. Ya do whatever ya can to confuse em." Carol nodded seriously.

"A lotta them're gonna be bigger'n you, so you're gonna have to compensate for that." She nodded again. "So we're gonna practice without a knife first, cause, ya know, don't really want ya to use it on me…" She grinned in agreement. "You wanna anticipate their movements. Assume that they're gonna lunge for ya, and lunge the other way. Make sense?"

"It _sounds_ easy enough," she said seriously. She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but she was eager to get started. This was one of the most important things she could learn.

"So just pretend you have somethin to stab me with, but focus mostly on your reflexes." He backed up a few feet, "Ready to try? Just try to avoid me, knock me off balance. Gonna try to act like a walker…"

They both chuckled, and yet, the thought of Daryl as a walker was terrifying. She pushed that idea out of her mind. Her knees were bent, and she concentrated on where to strike him first. He tried to imitate a walker's moans, lurching toward her slowly. It was distracting though, to think of someone she knew, that she cared about, as a walker. Then suddenly without warning, that thought connected back to Sophia coming out of the barn, and she lost her concentration completely.

He watched her, crouched and ready, then as he staggered forward, he saw something in her face change. By the time he had walked the few steps that had separated them, her resolve had crumbled and she appeared to be having a panic attack. She was leaning forward, her hands on her knees and her head hanging down, her breathing uneven. " 'S wrong? Ya okay?" He stood in front of her, not sure what to do.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, taking quick, shallow breaths and slowly pulling herself back up to stand. He watched her, thinking back on what had happened in those few minutes and what could have triggered her. It was something that he'd done… then it clicked. He was acting like a walker. Of course there was no other way for him to train her than for him to be her target, but of course, she didn't want to think of him that way… "Sophia?" he asked quietly. She nodded, tears falling down her cheeks and her head falling forward against his collarbone. He pulled his arms up around her, feeling like a jerk for making her cry.

As she stood leaning against him, the panic that she'd suddenly felt slowly evaporated. He was here, she was here, they were both safe. If she wanted to have a chance of staying that way, she needed to do this. Yes, her reality was that this reminded her of Sophia… but everything reminded her of Sophia, and it probably always would. It was always going to hurt, but she was not going to let it paralyze her. She needed to do this, so she was _going_ to do it. This time she'd be prepared for it, use it to her advantage somehow. The walkers were not going to break her. She was much stronger now than she'd been in that other life.

It took a few minutes, but he felt her breathing even out as she calmed down. He was relieved when she picked up her head, pushing herself back from him gently as he let his arms fall back down. He was glad that he could see that the fire in her eyes had returned… though he'd be lying to himself if he said a part of him didn't wish she was still leaning against him. That thought took him by surprise, and he pushed it aside quickly. She was now looking up at him with determination. "Ya okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's try again." There was a new resolve in her voice and on her face. He looked at her for a few seconds longer, trying to read her expression to be sure that she wasn't just _saying_ she was fine when she really wasn't – he'd caught her doing that too many times – but she appeared to be ready. He nodded, backing up again. _Maybe we'll try without the sound effects to start out with_, he thought to himself. _Save that for later._ He moved slowly forward, trying his best to imitate a walker's lurching steps.

Carol crouched slightly, trying to get herself ready again. She noticed that Daryl wasn't imitating the walkers' noises this time, which she knew was for her benefit. He really was so thoughtful. She waited until he was just barely with her arm's length from her, before reaching out both her arms to try to push him backwards in the midsection with all her might. He tried to reach for her more slowly than usual, for realism's sake, since walkers wouldn't be as quick to react as he would. Still, he managed to grab her arms and pull her towards him with a yank. They ended up tripping over each other, nearly falling to the ground. He managed to catch her and they stood up, panting slightly and backing up to try again.

"I think I just got bit," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, ya did. So that didn't work. Try somethin else, and do it as fast as ya can," he advised her. "The faster ya move, the better yer chances with em." She nodded, and they tried again. On the next impact, she tried dodging sideways and shoving him with her foot, getting a slightly running start to gain momentum. He saw her coming at him and let himself go limp before impact, trying to simulate her chances against the real thing. Even when he wasn't braced for the hit, he was far more muscular than a walker, but he did feel himself knocked somewhat off balance, even as he reached out to try to grab her the way a walker would. "Better," he said. "But they could also grab yer foot, then you'd be in trouble. Let's go again."

Half an hour later, Daryl had a large stick, resembling the size and shape of a club, and he gave it to Carol. "Right, you're gettin it, so now add this to what you're already doin." She looked at him skeptically. "Don't worry bout hurtin me, I've survived way worse'n a club, been hit way harder'n ya can hit me." Her expression showed how much she hated to think about him in that kind of pain, but she nodded. "Remember, aim for the head," he reminded her.

She shuddered slightly, nodded, and crouched again, ready. She was developing a technique after figuring out what worked and what didn't, at least on Daryl. Of course there would only be one way to truly test out her skills, but in the meantime, she felt like she was slowly getting the hang out it. She was better off than before they'd started, if nothing else. Daryl shuffled slowly forward, moaning ever so slightly. She heard it, recognized the sound for what it was – a more realistic representation of what she was training to fight – and continued to wait for the perfect moment to use her weapon against him. This time she tried something different, faking to one side and then jumping to the other, lunging then jumping up with the club – her "knife" – winding up as if she were going to hit him with all her might but then only tapping it against the side of his head. They both looked surprised as they caught their breath, pausing for a second before they reset.

"Best one yet," he said, nodding approvingly. "Think ya got the walker that time." She smiled proudly. "Ya wanna go again?" he asked.

She backed up and got back into her crouched position. "Ready when you are," she said with determination.

They practiced for hours, until the sun was low enough in the sky to tell them that it was nearly dinner time. By the time they stopped, they were both exhausted and sweaty, despite the chill in the air. Carol felt invigorated and more self-confident than she could ever remember feeling. Not only was she learning to shoot, but to defend herself from walkers at close range, which would really be the most important skill when it eventually came to that – because she knew that sooner or later, it would.

They walked back up to the lodge side by side, teasing each other good naturedly. Carol couldn't help but feel like despite the reality of what they'd been out there doing – teaching her to be able to save her own life from bloodthirsty monsters – that this had felt one of the best days she'd had in a long time. She chuckled to herself at that thought, making Daryl glance over at her.

"Ya gonna share the joke with me?" His face remained serious, as it often did, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Nothing, I just never knew it could be so much fun to learn how to fight things that wanted to kill me," she said with a smile.

"Pfft," he mumbled, trying to suppress a smile and bumping his shoulder against hers.

_Yep,_ she thought_, in this crazy new world, it doesn't get much better than this._

**Author's Note: OK, so I walk a very fine line between what makes sense in the show and what I'd really _like_ to see happen. This between the seasons section is a little harder in that way, because they changed a lot during the chunk of time that we didn't see passing... I don't know if the first half of this chapter went a little bit TOO cute... I agonized over it a bit, but in the end, well, I decided to go with it. Hope you all enjoyed it.**


	32. Creak

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but I'll be happy to talk your ear off about it, whether you want me to or not.**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**On the road, Day**

It had been a long few months since the farm had fallen and the ten of them had escaped. Somehow, they'd survived the winter – or they would have in another few weeks – and had managed not to lose anyone else, though they didn't say these words aloud for fear of jinxing themselves. It certainly hadn't been easy, and there was no reason to think that it was going to get any easier. On the contrary, this life seemed to get harder every day. There was nothing to be done but work as hard as they could every day to survive in the face of so many things they couldn't control, hope that it would be enough, and then wake up and do it all again the next day. The words exhausting, stressful and grueling did not _begin_ to cover what they went through every day, and it was definitely wearing on all of them.

Today found the group once again riding down the road in a caravan, split between an old blue pickup truck and a small SUV as they traveled with one idea in mid: stay ahead of the herds. Glenn was driving the SUV, with Maggie beside him and Hershel and a now very pregnant Lori squeezed into the backseat. The group had agreed that those two, at least, should ride in the more comfortable of the two vehicles. That left Rick driving the pickup truck, Carl in the seat beside him, and T-Dog, Beth, Daryl and Carol in the bed of the pickup truck along with Daryl's prized motorcycle. The weather was unforgiving and gas was in short supply, so he hadn't been driving it lately.

They'd been up with the first rays of the sun to gain as much ground as they could, and the four in the back of the pickup truck were definitely feeling the early morning chill at full force. All the blankets in the group's possession were wrapped around them, but the wind whipping up as they drove was more than making up for it. They sat side by side against the back wall of the truck's cab, Daryl and Carol squeezed together and sharing blankets, as they usually did. T-Dog and Beth sat with their shoulders pressed together tightly under the blankets as well. They hadn't known each other long, but not only did it feel like a very long time, but by now they were all considered family. Besides, survival was more important than personal space.

They bumped along the uneven roads, watching as the sun burst over the horizon. Today's sunrise was especially breathtaking. It almost seemed that the sky had been lit on fire, the brilliant colors changing every second. Oranges, reds, yellows and pinks swirled together in a giant kaleidoscope before them. It seemed strange that such a thing, especially such a beautiful one, could still exist after nearly everything else that they'd known in their former lives – especially the _good_ things from those lives – had all but disappeared from existence. The view of the sunrise was the only advantage of sitting in the back of the truck, and almost made up for the cold. Almost.

As she watched the sky changing, Carol couldn't help but remember a time that seemed a million years ago now, back when she'd stood in the middle of an abandoned traffic jam at dawn on the same interstate that had brought the original members of their group – so many of whom they'd lost along the way – together, and watched a sunrise with Daryl. That was back when there had still been hope that Sophia was alive, before they'd found the farm, before they'd lost so many people and so much…

Of course, there was nothing to be done about that. All they could do was carry on with who and what was there now, and hope that the others, her own Sophia included, had gone on to something better. She leaned her head on Daryl's shoulder, sighing deeply and feeling him lean a little closer to her. She imagined that he probably knew exactly what she was thinking. It wouldn't surprise her, because he usually did.

Because they'd been cut off by herds of walkers so often over the past few months and had had to constantly change directions, they hadn't been able move in any one direction for very long. They'd really just been moving from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, town to town, looking for what supplies they could find and sheltering where they could, almost going in circles. They hadn't made it out of Georgia – not that they really knew where they wanted to go. All they could do was keep moving.

No one liked this constant motion. They desperately craved – needed – something more permanent. But what? Where? They hadn't seen anything all winter that had come anywhere near rivaling the security they'd had at the Greenes' farm. They had no choice but to keep going, which was driving Rick mad with worry since Lori would be having the baby sooner than later.

They'd stopped briefly around mid-day to eat a small meal, then piled back into the cars and continued on their way. Towards late afternoon they finally came across a neighborhood that seemed devoid of walkers, as far as they could tell. They split into groups in order to check the houses on the main street, looking for both supplies and a safe place to stay for the night. Daryl, Carol and Beth started at the far end of the street, Maggie, Glen and Lori started at the same end on the opposite side, and T-Dog, Rick, Hershel and Carl at the opposite end of the street. They could afford to split up like this, now that all of them were competent at defending themselves – even Carl. The winter had brought many changes to the group, and that was one of the biggest.

The groups had been making good progress along their sections of the block, finding a decent amount of useful supplies, enough that the groups had stopped back at the SUV to deposit the items from their bags into the trunk so that they could fill them again. As they neared the end of the section of the block they were clearing, Daryl, Carol and Beth approached what looked like any other house along that street. It was a two stories tall and made of bricks with four stairs leading up to a large front porch. Daryl cautiously tried the front door, finding this one unlocked. This was convenient but also a little eerie, because they'd had to break into most of the other houses.

He held the crossbow ready, motioning to the other two to follow him through the front door. They looked around the dark entryway, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light indoors. The two women had their knives at the ready as they strained their eyes to see in the dim room. Everything was perfectly still. Carol wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the ghostly silence that felt so unnatural in these houses. They still looked as if their former occupants had just gone out and might return at any moment, but of course chances were that they were long since dead and gone.

They spread out throughout the spacious foyer area, Beth banging hard against the front wall to draw out any walkers that might be inside. They stood and waited, barely daring to breathe as they listened, but heard no sound. Creeping forward into the elegantly furnished living room, they cautiously pulled back the heavy curtains to allow light to filter in, then moved to clear the rest of the downstairs. Besides the living room, there was also a dining room, a kitchen and a study on the first floor, all spacious and full of expensive looking furniture. This house seemed to be one of the most untouched that they had come across in months. As they finished clearing the large downstairs they had found no signs of the former occupants, other than their possessions. It was a relief, and yet, it seemed almost too good to be true. And too good to be true usually turned out not to be true, in their experience.

The three met up in the kitchen, which was at the back of the first floor. Daryl peered out the back window, noting that a sliding door led to a deck and beyond that, a grassy backyard. They would check that after they finished clearing the house, if they had time. There were several doors leading to closets and one that appeared to access a basement, but they silently agreed that they would check the upstairs before opening any of the doors. Better to know what, if anything, could come up behind them before moving into closed off areas.

Once again, Daryl went up the stairs first. While he knew that the other two could defend themselves, his crossbow remained the most powerful weapon between the three of them. Besides, facts were facts, and he was by far bigger and stronger than the others. While they could hold their own, he felt better with them behind him, just in case. He had become protective of both of them, as well as the other members of the group. As they crept silently up the steps, he wondered momentarily at that thought. He had never imagined that he, Daryl Dixon, who had always felt most comfortable in the woods alone, would ever in his life have come to be nearly as concerned about other people as he had been about the ones with whom he had driven into this town. The world really _had _changed since the Turn.

As Daryl's right foot touched the top step, they heard a soft _creak_ in the floorboards somewhere down the hall. It had been almost inaudible, and yet, they had heard it. They froze, standing still and silent where they were, listening. They barely dared to breathe, and a long minute later the sound came again, louder this time. It was difficult to determine from which direction it had come, and the hallway stretched out to both sides ahead of them. A minute passed, then two minutes, and they didn't hear the noise again. Yet they knew that they had heard it twice before, and they were not foolish enough to believe that whatever had made the sound had vanished. They continued to stand where they were, hesitant to step into the hallway in one direction or the other and then be caught from behind by the source of the sound.

Without glancing back, Daryl raised his hand and signaled to Carol, who was last of the three on the stairs, and she thumped the heel of her hand against the wall beside them three times, again attempting to draw out the source of the sound. There was a rustling from their right, and they turned expectantly in the direction of the sound. It was only a few seconds before the rustling grew louder, then it became a thumping, interspersed with several dull _thuds_ all of which told them that something was slowly moving in their direction.

A shadow appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall to the right, accompanied by the telltale shuffle and low moan that they'd become all too familiar in the recent past. Daryl waited just long enough for the form to step into the hallway, so that he could confirm that it was indeed what he thought it was – a walker. Before Beth or Carol, who were still behind him on the stairs, could even see it, he'd shot an arrow through its skull, the only sound they heard the _thunk_ made by the shot from his crossbow. They didn't hear movement from any of the other rooms, but they weren't foolish enough to think that that meant that they weren't still in danger.

Ever so slowly, they crept the rest of the way up the stairs. Daryl went down the hall to the left, Beth to the right, stepping over the walker that Daryl had shot as she tiptoed into the bedroom at the end of the hall where it had come from. Carol took the room straight ahead of the stairs. There were six doorways along the long, narrow hallway, and based on the lack of noise, they didn't expect clearing them to take long. Then again, the walker that Daryl had just killed had been pretty darn quiet.

Daryl crept to the end of the hall, finding the door at the very end partially ajar. He slowly pushed it the rest of the way open with the end of his crossbow. His eyes darted around swiftly, finding a spacious corner room that appeared to be the master bedroom, with large windows on two of the walls. Light streamed in, and with the exception of a thick layer of dust that covered all of the surfaces, nothing looked out of place. It was rare to find houses that looked so "normal," so untouched, anymore. Not that he had ever lived in a house like this, but it reminded him of the houses you'd sometimes see on TV, back when such a thing had existed.

He walked slowly into the room, checking every corner and several large closets, which left only a door at the far end of the room that appeared to lead to an attached bathroom. Daryl was beginning to feel like the room went on forever. He inched slowly into what he had correctly guessed to be the bathroom, where once again, everything appeared to be in order. There was one door left, on the far wall beside a large bathtub. That door was closed, and he observed somberly that someone had drawn a large X in thick, red marker. That seemed more than a little bit ominous. Just then he heard a muffled thud from down the hall, and turned as quickly as he could without making any noise to make his way back to the others.

Beth tiptoed over the walker that Daryl had shot, making sure that she stepped much farther over it than was actually necessary. She'd already been grabbed by a walker that she'd _thought _had been shot once back at the farm, and it had almost cost her her life. She was fairly sure that she wouldn't get so lucky twice. She entered the room silently, carefully, and looked around. It appeared to be a younger boy's bedroom, with posters of dinosaurs hanging on the walls, a dinosaur bedspread on the bed and a dinosaur desk lamp on the bedside table. The room was on the small side, and the only door was a closet in the corner. After clearing the rest of the room, she stood, knife at the ready, in front of the closet door before flinging it open to reveal… nothing. Clothes hung neatly on their hangers, and she exhaled loudly.

Carol had entered the room just in front of the stairs silently, moving without making a sound, just as Daryl had taught her. She stood just inside the doorway, listening. She wasn't sure if the almost imperceptible sounds she was hearing were from Daryl and Beth's searches of the other rooms, if there was actually something to worry about, or if she was imagining the sounds because she was straining her ears so hard. She slowly reached out her left hand and knocked it against the wall besides the doorway. Hearing nothing, she advanced further into the room, checking every inch, including the thankfully unoccupied closet. She was peering out the window into the backyard when she heard it, or rather, felt it.

She had been checking the perimeter of the yard, glancing quickly out the window and still not seeing any walkers, when she realized that something wasn't right. It was still quiet, but there was a feeling she couldn't put her finger on. She wheeled around, her knife already in her hand, and was startled to look directly into the eyes of a tall, broad shouldered male walker, already inside the bedroom and advancing on her quickly. She saw shadows moving in the hallway behind it, and couldn't be sure whether they were being made by Daryl, Beth, both of them, or more walkers that they hadn't seen. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd been surprised by walkers.

Her attention returned to the one that was shuffling towards her, now letting out low moans. Stepping forwards as she'd been taught, she steadied herself and when he was within striking distance, she ducked around the walker's attempts to grab her, and jammed her blade into the side of the its head without hesitation. It crumpled in front of her as she twisted her knife, pulling it back out of the skull, the knife now covered in foul smelling, clumpy liquid. She shuddered as she glanced at the body in front of her before stepping over it quietly to check on the situation in the hallway.

However, before she managed to get to the doorway, two more walkers blocked her path. She cursed silently, stepping back carefully to avoid tripping over the walker she had just taken out. She glanced to her left, and the first item she saw was a baseball bat sticking out from under a twin sized bed. _Perfect_, she thought to herself, darting over quickly to grab it. She'd never been good at baseball, but she'd grown pretty darn good at defending herself over the past few months, and she was fairly sure she could improvise.

The two walkers shuffled towards her in the small room, and she wasted no time before crouching down and swinging the bat as hard as she could at the knees of the closer walker, causing it to fall backwards onto the second one, both of staggering backwards and landing clumsily against the far wall with a heavy _thud._ They weren't done for, but it put them off balance and gave Carol a chance to regroup for just a second. She approached the first walker, who was now getting back up, from around the right side and easily slid her knife into its skull, as she had for the one who lay on the floor. Before she could pull the hand holding her knife back, however, the third walker reached out and grabbed her arm, holding it tighter than she would have expected it would have been able to.

Panic filled her immediately, and she knew that if she didn't get her arm away from that walker in the next few seconds, she was done for. She yanked as hard as she could, but to no avail. So she reached out her left foot, which was closest to the walker that was holding on to her, and kicked as hard as possible, just as she saw the monster's teeth reaching towards the arm that she couldn't break free. Luckily, the impact of her foot against the jelly-like substance of the walker's stomach – which, had her life not been in danger, she would have taken a moment to feel disgusted by – preceded the walker's teeth reaching her arm, and its tight grip loosened just enough for her to pull her arm free. She wasted no time before plunging her knife into that walker's skull as well. Both of those walkers fell to the ground by her feet as she stepped back in disgust, panting heavily. She stood looking around the room for just a moment, considering what she had just done. _She had saved herself._ She smiled, but there was no time for celebrations, because who knew what else was waiting for her or the others.

Between the three of them, they had now cleared three of the six rooms, though none of them had any way of knowing what the others had found. Carol hoped they were alright, as she got ready to enter the hall again.


	33. Lucky

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but today it doesn't matter because it's back from midseason (5) break tonight, so it's all good!**

**Author's Note: So parts of the fanfic site were down all day yesterday, as some of you may have noticed – you could read chapters but nothing else, or at least that's what happened to me. If you had any desire to leave me a review on chapter 32 but didn't have a chance, PLEASE consider going back and doing so. I'll beg if it helps… I enjoy reading them SO MUCH, you all have no idea.**

**Also, another big thank you to Poppy P for the inspiration for the conversation at the end of this chapter. I loved the idea so much, and how it would help tie things in as we go through season 3, I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it.**

**Between season 2 and season 3**

**In a large brick house where there may or may not be more walkers, in a suburban neighborhood somewhere in Georgia, Late Afternoon**

Daryl emerged from the door to the giant master bedroom, padding quietly into the hallway. He heard muffled noises, but nothing he could be sure of. He approached the next door along the hall, the one that was between the room he had just left and the one Carol had gone into. Again, the door was partially ajar and he pushed it open with his crossbow, prepared for many things, but unprepared for what he found.

It appeared from the various posters, pictures and ever so pale purple color decorating the walls that it was a teenage girl's room. There was a double bed in the center, covered in a purple quilt. On the bed, Daryl saw a sight that he hoped he would never, ever see again – what was _left_ of a victim of what you'd call a walker feeding frenzy. Most of the flesh had been removed from the arms, legs and torso. It was truly horrifying. There was blood everywhere, and as hardened as he had become to tragedy, he closed his eyes against the gruesome scene for a moment. But Daryl knew what needed to be done, so he opened his eyes once more, strode quickly to the side of the bed and plunged his knife into the skull of what was left of the walkers' victim. Not only was it better safe than sorry, but it was certainly the most humane thing that could have been done. At that moment it didn't matter whether or not that poor soul posed an actual danger to him.

Averting his eyes from the bed after that and attempting to push down the bile that was rising in his throat, he checked the rest of the room, which appeared to be clear. The only door was the closet, which thankfully ended up being clear as well. Before leaving the room, he picked up the corners of the quilt, pulling them together and lifting the bloody remains as best he could off of the bed, dumping the heap into the corner that was closest to the door, leaving it loosely wrapped up. There was no sense in anyone else seeing that, at least not when they first entered the room. He wished that there was time to take care of the body more respectfully, but the reality was that there wasn't. There was still a lot of blood visible on the sheets that remained on the bed, but at least the body was obscured from sight. He raised his crossbow again and prepared to move further down the hallway, bracing himself for what he might find next.

Beth crept quietly out of the room she'd cleared, her senses on high alert. She'd heard a _thud_, but she couldn't tell where it had come from. It could have been nothing, but it could have been something… and the only safe thing to do was to assume that it was _always_ something. She emerged from the room she had just cleared, stepping carefully over the walker that Daryl had shot with his crossbow, bending slowly to retrieve the arrow from its skull to return it to him. She was straining so hard to hear where the noise – the one she _thought _she had heard – had come from, but didn't hear anything.

The next door she came to was to the left of the bedroom she had just emerged from, just beside the stairs. It was mostly open, and she peered inside to find a large, sunny bathroom. She noticed nothing out of place in the room as her eyes darted around quickly… and then she saw it.

A shadow moved within the glass shower stall, and it began moaning frantically when it noticed her standing just inside the doorway. She gave a small gasp, not having expected to see it there, watching as it pressed harder and harder against the glass enclosure. The metal frame strained under the weight and she could see that it wasn't going to hold for long. She glanced for a split second down the hallway to her right, wondering how the others were faring, before returning her attention to the walker in front of her.

Despite being trapped inside the shower stall, the walker appeared to be fully dressed. She wondered if someone had purposely cornered it there somehow. She didn't have time to wonder much more, however, before the walker managed to push the glass panel on the side facing her right out of the frame of the shower enclosure, sending it crashing loudly to the ground and splintering glass across the room. She put her arm up to shield her face as the glass fell, though luckily none of it made it to where she was standing. The walker fell forward amongst the shards of glass, reaching out towards her and moaning desperately.

Carol was just walking through the doorway of the room where she'd killed the three walkers when she heard the loud _crash_, the splintering of glass, and the moaning sound of a walker from down the hall. She took only a quick glance into the hallway before she ran towards the sound, and was then nearly trampled by Daryl, who was also barreling down the narrow hall towards the commotion. They quickly got their balance again before proceeding together, quietly and only a little more slowly.

When they reached the bathroom doorway, they found Beth already advancing nimbly but carefully on the walker who still lay amongst the shards of glass. They watched with relief as the girl quickly stabbed her knife into the walker's brain before it had a chance to get back up. She took a few steps back and looked up at them with both pride and relief, breathing hard. She held out her left hand towards Daryl, where she was still clasping the arrow that she'd pulled out of the walker on the floor in the hall.

However, as relieved as they were, and as proud as they were of each other, there wasn't time for celebration of their respective victories. They updated each other about what they'd found, Daryl mentioning the door with the X on it with concern. There was one room left on the upper floor that they hadn't cleared yet, in between the bedrooms that Beth and Carol had checked. Daryl peered out into the hallway and led the way to that room, once again because his crossbow was the most powerful of their weapons. That room was clear, so they went back to the master bedroom, together this time, to begin their second pass through each room to gather any usable supplies and clothes they could, leaving the door with the X undisturbed. They had had enough excitement, and had no intention of staying in this house longer than the time it took to gather a few things anyway. They quickly swept through the rest of the house, picking up supplies, before slipping back out the front door to find the others.

…

There had apparently been similar experiences among the other groups as they had cleared the houses along both sides of the block – they had found walkers, but not too many, and nothing they couldn't ultimately handle. They met back up by the cars as dusk slowly crept across the sky to discuss what they had found out about this neighborhood. Maggie, Glenn and Lori said that they'd found the perfect house for them to stay in for the night. It had been completely free of walkers, still had plenty of supplies, which they'd left intact for the time being, and was spacious enough for them not to be crowded together.

There were no signs of herds in the neighborhood, so they hoped they'd be alright there at least for the night, and agreed that the house that Maggie had described to them sounded like the perfect place for the group to sleep. Rick and Daryl went in to sweep the house again – because you could _never _be too careful – and once it was declared safe, they moved their vehicles into the yard beside it, behind a hedge so that they were hidden from view from the street. As the light disappeared, they took a few possessions from the cars and moved in for the night. _Just in time_, thought more than one person in the group.

It wasn't too long after that when Daryl sat on a rocking chair on the front porch, just in front of the front door, allowing the chair to rock gently beneath him. He couldn't remember ever sitting in one before, but he suddenly understood why people liked these chairs. There was something calming about the motion, and as he sat in the chilly night air, his crossbow sitting on his lap, he couldn't help but feel slightly less tense than he had when he'd come out to take the first watch shift.

There was a click and he heard the front door open behind him, then another click as the door closed and soft footsteps on the concrete of the front porch. And then Carol was in front of him, holding out a large, fleece blanket and a plate of food, which he accepted with a grunt, a nod and a half smile. He draped the blanket over his shoulders and balanced the plate on his knees. Thankfully the night wasn't as cold as it had been that night they'd sat in the rain back on the front porch of the hunting lodge. That already felt like a million year ago.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile, sinking down in the rocking chair beside him. He'd kinda hoped she'd join him while he sat there, as she had done plenty of other times when he was on watch, and he had pulled two chairs over just in case. She'd brought her plate of food outside with her as well, as she sometimes did. She didn't have to, and he never expected her to, but he was glad when she did. It was always nicer than having to eat alone. And as she had already observed more than once, if she didn't bring him a plate, he usually just didn't eat.

He noticed that under the blanket wrapped around her shoulders she wore an oversized grey sweater that he didn't recognize. "You been shoppin?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a bite of his dinner.

"I guess you could say that," she said thoughtfully. "It wouldn't have been my first choice, but there was nothing my size or my style in the closet. It works as well as anything, I suppose," she added thoughtfully, fingering the bottom edge of the grey material.

He grunted his agreement as he continued to eat, and she smiled slightly, looking out into the darkness as she ate as well. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating and listening to the stillness of the night, the only sound the slight creaking of their rocking chairs. Suddenly, out of the blue, he heard Carol inhale softly and say, "You know, we're pretty lucky."

He snorted just a little, wondering how in the world _anything_ that had happened to them since they'd survived the end of the world could have been considered lucky. "What ya mean?" he asked, genuinely curious to know.

"I don't know…" she continued slowly, thoughtfully. "I mean, yes, so many bad things have happened to us. _So many,_" she paused, her eyes prickling slightly at the thought of Sophia, and the others that they'd lost along the way. "But really, when you think about it, what were the odds that any of us would have survived at all? Or that our group would have ended up finding each other? I know that _I_ certainly wouldn't have stood a chance on my own."

She glanced over at him and tilted her head, thinking. "You, of course… you would've been fine." She paused as if considering his chances without the group, looking at him thoughtfully. "You may be the only one in the group who would've been." She stopped, appearing to be lost in thought. He was trying to think of how to respond, when she began speaking again. "We were so lucky when you and Merle joined the group. We _never_ would have made it this far without you."

His skin prickled slightly at the mention of his brother, and he wasn't quite sure what to say in response. Merle was still a sore subject for him. Daryl hoped that he was out there somewhere, but… well, nothing in this world was sure anymore, except that more pain and disappointment seemed to await them around every corner. He was also uncomfortable with the blatant compliment she'd just given him. He looked out into the blackness, willing himself to stop imagining what may have happened to the only family he had had left.

She continued speaking, though it wasn't clear whether it was for her own benefit, or his. "It's strange how people who you've lived your whole life never having met once, having never had a thing in common with, can become your family… In almost no time at all."

"Yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head and now thinking that she had a point. He'd never stopped to think about it, but the group _had _become some kinda family. A fucked up one, granted, but family nonetheless. And if he was being honest, a far _less_ fucked up family that his real one. No, this family treated him far better than his father or Merle ever had. His mother had been good to him, but that had been so long ago, it was hard to even remember much about her now, beyond that she had been the only one to treat him as though she cared. "Family's family. No matter how fucked up it may be," he added with a trace of bitterness. He was pretty sure his family could win a prize in that department, and yet… would he have done anything he could've if he had the chance to find Merle, as much of an asshole as he was? Yes, of course.

"Some people are lucky with the family they get to start out with. Some… are _less_ lucky," she mused, peering at him hesitantly. He couldn't tell if she was talking about his bad luck, or hers, or maybe both. He realized that he didn't know anything about her family besides Ed and Sophia – though clearly the _less lucky_ could have referred to what he _did_ know of her life. Both having been married to Ed, and having lost Sophia seemed to him to have been exceptionally unlucky. She'd never mentioned anyone else… no parents, no siblings… no one. It didn't really seem odd though – most of the group didn't actually know a lot about each other's pasts, when he thought about it – not beyond what each of them had chosen to share. It wasn't as though there was time to sit around sharing stories, and well, sharing those memories wouldn't have led anywhere most of them wanted to go. After all, anyone who wasn't there with them… well, they were pretty much presumed to be dead at this point. None of them wanted to say it out loud, but that was life now. Assuming the best was like setting yourself up for disappointment. These days assuming the worst was a much safer bet.

They'd both been sitting quietly for some time, he realized, and when he looked over at her, he saw that she'd been just as lost in her thoughts as he'd been in his. He could see that she was still far away, but her face didn't betray what she was thinking.

"Hey," he said quietly, waiting for her to look up before continuing. "Ya know how far you've come, don't ya?" She looked at him questioningly, not sure exactly what he was talking about, or where this was coming from. "Before, when ya said ya wouldn't have made it on yer own? Maybe not then, but ya sure can take care of yourself now. Makes me feel better, knowin I don't gotta worry about ya _quite _so much." Then he looked down shyly, realizing what he'd just said.

"You worry about me?" she asked softly, not daring to let herself believe it.

"Pfft," he grunted, now feeling embarrassed for having said so. "Not 's much as I used to… but yeah."

Slowly, she felt a smile creep across her lips. She couldn't for the life of her think of what to say to respond to that. Daryl had that effect on her sometimes. Luckily, they'd always had such a connection to each other that most of the time, words weren't really necessary. This was one of those times. He could see from the look on her face how much those few words had meant to her, which made his embarrassment worth it.

Just then, the door creaked open and T-Dog's shadow emerged from inside the house, there to relieve Daryl him from his watch shift.

"Go on in and get some sleep, guys," T-Dog said softly. "I got it."

They looked up at T-Dog, having both been snapped out of their thoughts. They gathered their plates wearily, stretching as they stood. Daryl watched as Carol took the blanket from her shoulders and handed it to T-Dog. "It's chilly out here," she told him. "Take this." Daryl shook his head slightly as T-Dog thanked her, wondering once again at how she always seemed to take care of everyone in their group.

The pair walked slowly toward the house as T-Dog nodded at them and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. Daryl opened the front door, then gestured for Carol to go through first. He noticed that this small gesture made her both smile and look down at the floor awkwardly. She was _still_ not used to these small acts of politeness, which made him angry with Ed all over again. He watched her uncomfortably try to accept that someone could be kind to her, noticing that it actually seemed to _confuse_ her, and it made him sad. He shook his head slowly.

Suddenly, he thought back to Carol's comment about luck. He hadn't ever been lucky in his life before – to put it mildly. His only luck had always been very, very bad luck. But was it possible that that had changed? Because right now, he felt something downright unfamiliar. He noticed it as he walked through the doorway and into the house behind her, and he noticed it even more watching her smile wearily at him when she turned around to glance back over her shoulder.

He felt lucky.

**Author's Note 2: I hope the past 33 chapters have helped give you a little TWD fix during the midseason break. It's weird to be thinking about this story just arriving at season 3 when we'll be seeing season 5b tonight… I have no plans to stop updating this story though. I'll catch up with the show one of these days… maybe by season 7 or 8. :) Thank you for all of the love so far, and the awesomely generous reviews that some of you leave me. I appreciate every one of them.**


	34. Watching

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but that's probably for the best. Robert Kirkman does a better job with it than I could! Still, the characters are fun to borrow and play with.**

**Author's Note: I tried something a little different here (or at least I felt like I did), so I'm curious to see what everyone thinks.**

**Season 3, episode 1**

**On the road, Dawn**

He'd been watching her all day. Not in a creepy way, it was more protective than anything else. He'd been watching her pretty much since the moment they'd woken up on the cold, hard floor of the house where they'd spent the night. The whole group had been huddled together in the living room, which was large but not large enough to allow anyone more than a few inches of space around themselves. As usual, he'd been the first one awake, just before the sun. He'd opened his eyes and turned his head to see her curled on her side facing him, not far away but in her own space. Glenn had been on watch by the large window beside the front door, but otherwise no one else had even been stirring. It was comforting to see her like this, sleeping, untroubled by nightmares. She seemed to be having them less frequently… or maybe she'd just gotten better at hiding them.

As if his thoughts had been too noisy and had awoken her, her eyes blinked open at that moment. He tried to shut his again quickly before she saw him watching her, but she was faster than him by a fraction of a second. He heard her whisper "Good morning," and his mouth drew involuntarily into a small smile in response.

"Why you wakin me up, woman?" he replied in the same hushed tone, reigning in the smile in favor of a serious look, letting his eyes blink open as if he'd been asleep. The smile that met his eyes was full force now, and it was all he could do to suppress his own in response. He faked an expression of annoyance, which he noticed only made her smile a little more, and groaned quietly as he pushed himself off the ground. He watched as her smile didn't falter while _she_ watched _him_ get up. Nope, she didn't buy the annoyance for a second. _Dammit_, he thought to himself. _Can't hide anything from her_.

He stepped carefully around the others, making his way towards the front door. He nodded at Glenn, who nodded back at him in response as he passed. Daryl turned around before reaching for the knob on the front door, seeing that Carol had closed her eyes again, still laying in the same place between Lori on one side and his now vacant space on the other. With that he quietly opened the door and left the house to try to catch some breakfast for the group.

X

He was approaching the house an hour or so later when he heard the quiet noises of the group, talking in hushed voices around a small campfire that they'd made in the front yard of the house where they'd slept. Being as accustomed to the wilderness as he was, he had a chance to observe them before they noticed him coming. It concerned him a little bit that he was able to get so close to them before they even noticed, however, he saw that T-Dog was standing vigilant on the front porch, having replaced Glenn on watch, and knew that as soon as he stepped out from between the trees he would be spotted.

He hesitated just inside the tree line for a moment, watching Carol's profile as she worked to stoke the fire, enough to keep it going but not enough to let it get too big, all the while quietly talking to the others around her. He marveled at her ease with the others in the group, how she always seemed to have a kind word and a helping hand for everyone, no matter how stupid or selfish the others acted.

She certainly had changed over the winter. She'd gone from completely shutting herself off from the rest of them in her grief over losing Sophia, from both feeling and, really, _being_ weak and vulnerable, into a vital member of the team who was finally beginning to realize her own worth. She could take care of herself now, in addition to caring for the others. She had been taking care of people as best she could for so long without a second thought, always minimizing that care as nothing. It was just in her nature to be kind. Sadly, life had taught her that she was useless. Finally she was coming to see that she _wasn't_.

Of course, it wasn't just Carol. They had all changed that winter. He stood in the trees and watched these people that he'd started feeling a kinship with and shook his head. He never would have thought it could happen, but it had… but only because of her. She had told him in no uncertain terms that he belonged there, even when she should have hated him, when she should have wanted nothing to do with him. This was why he watched her. No matter how strong she had become, his instincts told him that he had to look out for her.

No, that was wrong. He didn't have to. She was proving capable of looking out for _herself_. He didn't _have _to. He _wanted_ to.

X

It hadn't been easy, but they'd successfully cleared the field in front of the prison – the prison that Rick and Daryl had found accidentally only that morning – of all walkers. For the moment, this place was theirs. Carol walked through the gate followed by Carl, then Daryl and Hershel, out into the open field which stretched far before them, yet still had chain link fences around the perimeter to keep it safe from the outside world. Daryl was only a few paces behind her, and he watched her as she jogged ahead of him, almost overcome with joy. "We haven't had this much space since we left the farm!" she exclaimed. The smile on her face threatened to crack it in two. The rest of the group followed closely behind Hershel, all of them equally giddy with delight. There wasn't much to celebrate in their world, but this was definitely one of those few things that they could allow themselves to enjoy, if only for a short time.

They decided that they deserved a rest. Yes, the walkers that they had shot and stabbed still needed to be removed from the field before it could really feel like a safe place, but before embarking on that next big project, they came to a spot in the middle of grass where they all just flopped down to relax. Several of them, Carol included, lay on their backs looking up at the sky. Daryl sat in the grass near her, one leg folded on the ground and the other knee bent in the air in front of him, where he rested his elbow. He watched Carol as she lay in the grass, arms stretched out to either side, looking happier than he thought he'd ever seen her. She was staring up at the late afternoon sky, her expression so peaceful that within minutes her eyelids began to droop.

She wasn't the only one who looked like they might soon fall asleep. Lori's eyes were already closed, and Beth looked like hers were about to be as well. This place seemed to be a tonic for them. Just the ability to lay down and think about nothing was a luxury.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by Carol's voice whispering to him from nearby.

"Daryl," she said softly, "Am I dreaming? Or am I really lying in the grass?" Her eyes were still closed, and he bit back a smile as he watched her. The others, sitting nearby but spread out, were enjoying the fact that for once they _didn't_ have to be huddled together.

"Nah, you're not dreamin," he told her quietly, watching her smile increase in intensity as his words sunk in.

"How do I know you're not just saying that in my dream?" she challenged him playfully. "Because I think this is definitely too good to be reality."

"Dunno, guess ya can't really know fer sure," he drawled, shrugging his shoulders. "So just enjoy it." As he watched her laying so happily in the grass, it _did_ seem hard to believe that this sunny, currently walker-less (unless you counted the ones they'd already shot down, of course) day was reality, even with his wide eyes open.

X

They had never actually discussed it, but somehow when he was on watch at night, she usually showed up. It had happened more and more over the course of the winter, and by now if you'd asked anyone else in the group but the two of them, they'd have said it was expected. If Daryl was on watch at night, it was just assumed that Carol would be there as well.

Of course the two of them had no such actual agreement. It just seemed to happen. If Daryl was on watch at dinner time, Carol would bring him some food, then just end up staying there unless there was something that needed her attention elsewhere. If he was on watch later, even if no one had told her, she just seemed to end up there. It may have had something to do with the fact that they spent so much time watching each other, so if she didn't see him somewhere else around, she'd look until she found him. Besides, she still didn't like giving in to sleep if she could avoid it. The nightmares had slowly been growing fewer and farther in between, but when she had them they were still terrifying. And besides, she'd always found Daryl's presence calming. She felt safer around him than anyone else.

Daryl watched her walking across the darkened field from the campfire, carrying what was probably a plate. He smiled to himself, thinking that he'd be glad to have her company. The thought was still a surprise to him each time it entered his mind, since he'd always preferred to be alone to having _anyone's_ company in the past. And yet… he liked it when she was around. He hadn't quite figured out why, he just knew that she seemed to understand him so well it was eerie, and vice versa. So when he watched her trying to climb up to where he stood on the overturned truck, he reached down to help pull her up.

She hadn't asked him to rub her shoulder, but as he once again watched her, her discomfort became immediately obvious. When he asked, she told him the pain had been caused by the rifle she'd been shooting with earlier. His first thought was that he should try to fix it for her. He never would have entertained the idea of touching anyone else that way, for any reason, but this was _Carol_, and he was comfortable with her. Then suddenly he was working on her shoulder and as he watched her, saw her smile and turn around to glance at him, it suddenly struck him exactly what he was _doing_.

_How in the hell did I just end up rubbin her shoulder, anyway? _he wondered, trying not to let his feelings show too clearly on his face. He didn't know why he bothered to try to hide them, since she always seemed see through him anyway. Suddenly he felt twenty-nine different kinds of uncomfortable. He tried not to let it get the best of him, but almost as quickly as he had started rubbing her shoulder, he stopped, telling her that they should get back. He hoped that she couldn't sense just exactly how flustered he'd suddenly become, thought he imagined that she probably could, as usual.

He knew exactly how much she enjoyed teasing him, and he figured that after what just happened, he could probably expect more. He tried not to glance at her, as if that would somehow stop her from knowing how he felt. He hated when she did that, and yet… he liked it, in a fucked up kinda way. The only reason he knew that he like it somehow was because he knew that if anyone else would said what she said to him _next_, he may well have shot them with his crossbow.

"It's pretty romantic," she said, and he recognized that twinkle in her eye, the pouty lips. _Oh no, _he thought, bracing him for whatever it was she was about to say.

"Want to screw around?"

He would have been less surprised if all the lights around the prison would have suddenly been illuminated at once than he was at that question coming out of her mouth. He was afraid to think about what color he might be turning, even though he _knew_ she was kidding. This was just what she liked to do, to say things that she _knew_ made him uncomfortable.

"Pfft," he grunted. They both laughed, and really, it _was_ funny.

"I'll go down first," he offered, shuffling past her and bending towards the edge of the truck.

"Even better," she teased him mercilessly.

_Oh for fuck's sake, woman! _he screamed in his head. He just straightened back up enough to look at her and shake his head slightly, feeling his face flush. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him, and he knew that she knew it.

"_STOP," _he told her in that same tone he always used. She was enjoying this _way _too much.

He jumped to the ground first and reached up his hand to help her down. He watched her smile down at him, looking at him in mock innocence, and he knew that his face betrayed his discomfort, yet also showed that he enjoyed the banter. _Dammit._

He held onto her hand until just a little longer than he needed to hold it in order to steady her on the ground. He looked around them into the darkness, his hand now on the strap of his crossbow and his eyes on high alert for danger from any direction, before they started their walk back to the campfire. After all, you could_ never_ be too careful. They'd lost too many people to think that they could. Just because they believed they were safe here did _not _mean that they actually were. How many times had they made _that _mistake? _Too many_, he thought to himself as they made their way back to the campfire.

Shortly after they sat down and Rick left to take over watch duty, the group was beginning to quiet down for the night, everyone slowly shifting from sitting by the fire to laying down to sleep. Carol leaned back, using her backpack as a makeshift pillow, and Daryl watched her as she curled herself onto her side facing him. He lay down on his back, not far away, putting his arm under his head and looking up at the moon and the glittering stars. The weather was clear and not too cold, and he could feel her watching him. It made him smile just a little, and without even looking in her direction, it was almost as though he could feel her smiling back at him in the moonlight.

"Good night," he heard her whisper, softly enough that she could only have been talking to him.

He grunted something quietly in return. _Why do you bother? _he asked himself. _'S not like she can't see right through ya. _He really didn't know, but just then it didn't matter. Just then he was there, she was there, they were both safe and so was everyone who had been with them that morning, and that was all that mattered.

…

She'd been watching him all day. Not in a creepy way, it was more curious than anything else. Before she'd even opened her eyes she'd felt _him_ watching _her_ as well. It was a comforting feeling, not like when she would awaken long ago and know that Ed was watching her. Then she had been filled with apprehension, fear, dread. No, feeling Daryl watching her filled her with… peace. She always felt safe when he was around. She blinked her eyes open to see Daryl, not far away, hastily closing his. She laughed to herself. _Busted_! she thought. "Good morning," she whispered faintly, not wanting to wake anyone else. She hadn't moved to look around yet, but she could tell from the stillness in the room that the others were still sleeping.

She saw him smile just a little bit for a fraction of a second, then watched him regain control and ask softly "Why you waking me up, woman?" His eyes were still closed and he was pretending to be grumpy about it. They both knew he had been awake first, and she couldn't help but smile broadly. This was the side of Daryl, the joking side, that it seemed that only _she_ got to see, which made it all the more special.

She watched as he opened one eye a crack, then the other, feigning annoyance and sleepiness. He slowly raised his head and looked around, then pushed himself up off of the floor, trying to pretend that he was annoyed with her. More than anything, she found his pretend annoyance cute. She'd watched him long enough and felt like she understood him well enough to know when he was _actually_ annoyed. As he padded quietly away, she closed her eyes again, not quite ready to get up, as uncomfortable as the floor was. She opened her eyes for just a second when she heard the door creak open, and watched the back of him disappear as he slipped past Glenn, into the early morning darkness.

X

They'd all trooped out into the field in front of the prison that they – the whole group, herself included, she thought proudly – had worked together to clear. There wasn't any one of them who hadn't contributed. Not Carl, not Lori, not Beth, and not herself. There were no helpless members of their group anymore. As they met up just inside the gate leading to the field, she watched the excitement dance in Daryl's eyes despite the fact that he didn't wear his excitement quite as clearly on his face as she did. "Nice shootin," he'd told her, and his expression had told her that he'd meant it sincerely. She'd run ahead of him into the field in her excitement, but she turned back around several times to see that the group – that _he _– was following close behind.

When she flopped down in the grass, just because there was no reason _not_ to, she saw the amusement on his face. It was probably the kind of expression that the others would have missed, but to her it was clear. It only made her smile more. At that moment it seemed like _everything_ made her smile more broadly. She watched him sit down nearby as she lay down on her back. From the sounds she heard and what little she could see as she lay there, she knew that many of the others had done the same. It was such a beautiful day, and what they had just accomplished felt so monumental, she just couldn't imagine NOT laying down to look up at the clouds right then and there.

She snuck a peek back at Daryl, who was still looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. She didn't care. He may not have been as expressive with his emotions, but she could tell that he was happy too. And with good reason. _They had cleared the field_. Maybe, just maybe, they could stay here, stop running for a while. The thought by itself was intoxicating. She looked back up at the clouds above her, letting her thoughts drift, and it wasn't long before her eyelids closed. She wasn't sleeping, exactly, as much as she was perfectly relaxed. She couldn't remember the last time she could say she felt that way. She wasn't watching Daryl just then, but at that moment she didn't have to. She knew she could afford to let herself relax this completely as long as Daryl was there watching out for her.

X

It was dark now, and the group had made a campfire in the middle of the field. Daryl had gone out earlier and found the usual assortment of small animals, mainly squirrels, in the woods around the prison, then had volunteered to relieve T-Dog on watch while everyone else had sat and eaten together by the fire. Daryl had made many great strides toward becoming a part of the group, but he still needed his time alone.

Carol had been watching Daryl even as she'd sat with the rest of the group. His watch post was across at the other end of the field, by the gate, atop on overturned truck. She'd watched him on and off for a while now, and he had alternated between sitting, standing and pacing, or the nearest he could come to pacing on what had once been the side of the vehicle. She'd finished eating and figured that she'd better take him a small helping of what they had before it was all gone. As far as she could remember, no one else had ever brought him food when he was on watch, so she had always taken it upon herself. Not only did she not mind, she actually enjoyed the time with him.

She stood up with the food as the others talked quietly, walking away from the campfire. The eyes of the rest of the group on her but no one asked her where she was going. They didn't need to. They'd seen her eat her own food, and now she was walking away from the fire with another helping in the direction where Daryl was on watch. It didn't take a genius to figure it out, and she'd done the same thing many times before. This group was an interesting collection of people watchers. For as much as Carol and Daryl watched each other, the rest of the group also watched the two of them with curiosity. No one could quite figure out _what_ was going on between those two. The only thing that was for sure was that they meant _something_ to each other.

She watched him as she walked across the field towards him, knowing that he could see her as well. The field was awash in moonlight, so the area outside the campfire's glow didn't feel as gloomy as it may have otherwise. He didn't seem to be doing anything differently than he had when she'd been back at the campfire, but there was a difference somehow. She realized that it was probably the feeling that he was watching her, which she had experienced many times in the past. She shook her head and chuckled as she considered how much time they spent watching each other. She supposed it must be the same with him as it was with her – since they seemed to be alike in so many other ways. At least to her, their watching each other was their way of watching _out_ for each other. The world had become a dangerous place since right around the time they'd met, and the only way to know for sure that someone else was okay was to see it with your own eyes. She thought that maybe it was their way of reassuring themselves that the other was still there, and that they were safe.

X

She tried not to turn around and look at him while he was rubbing her shoulder. Tried, and failed. She hadn't asked him to do it, and she wasn't going to – couldn't – pretend she didn't like it. She knew that she shouldn't have turned to look at him, because as soon as their eyes met, he got uncomfortable. This kind of thing was so unlike him, she wondered what had made him suggest it in the first place. She suspected that he just hadn't thought about what he was doing. He was just trying to do something nice for her, as he so often did. She couldn't help that it made her smile.

"Better get back," he said uncomfortably, releasing her shoulder from his hands. She saw the discomfort in his face and could just imagine what was running through his head. _How in the hell did I just end up rubbin her shoulder, anyway?_ She chuckled to herself, thinking that was probably exactly what he was thinking.

For some reason, she could never resist teasing him. She loved to watch him blush and squirm, always in a playful way, because she could tell that though it made him uncomfortable. Still, on some level he seemed to like it. Every once in a while he'd even tease her back.

"It's pretty romantic," she said, a twinkle in her eye, making a face at him. "Want to screw around?" She knew that in his head, his jaw had just hit the ground and she tried to suppress the laugh that was trying desperately to escape from her lips.

"Pfft," he grunted, then they both chuckled. They shuffled around each other to get ready to jump down off the truck to the ground. "I'll go down first," he said, bending towards the edge.

"Even better," she teased him mercilessly.

He stopped bending toward the edge of the truck and straightened partway to look at her, feeling his face flush. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him, but she couldn't help herself.

"_STOP," _he told her. She absolutely loved watching him when he was flustered like that.

He jumped to the ground first and reached up his hand to help her down. She took it with a smile, and she could see that any feigned annoyance that may have been in his voice was for show. She jumped down from the truck, and held onto her hand for a split second longer than it actually took to help steady her on the ground. She watched him glance around the darkness around them in the few seconds before they started walking back towards the campfire, his hand going to the strap on his crossbow just in case. They ambled back to the campfire, where the rest of the group was listening to Maggie and Beth sing a song from their past, their voices harmonizing in the night air.

The two sat down beside each other, slightly outside the circle around the fire, and Rick went to take the next watch shift. The rest of the group began to shift from sitting around the fire to laying down as they began to get sleepy, exchanging quiet murmurs about getting some sleep for the work they had ahead of them the next day. Carol was one of the first to lean back in the grass, putting her backpack under her head as a makeshift pillow. She turned on her side so that she could feel just a little of the heat from the fire on her back, despite the fact that she and Daryl weren't as close to it as the others were. She watched Daryl as he lay down on his back, not far away, his arm under his head as he looked up at the moon. The weather was clear and not too cold, and she couldn't help but smile as she watched _him_ smile just a little in the moonlight.

"Good night," she whispered, softly enough that only he could hear her.

She heard him grunt something quietly in return, and it wasn't long before they both drifted off to sleep. At that moment they were both safe, and that was all that mattered.


	35. Silence

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I'm content to just obsess over it.**

**Season 3, episode 1**

**The Prison, Evening**

After many attempts, Carol had finally convinced Lori to lay down on the bottom bunk in the cell where they'd both deposited their few possessions. Things between Lori and Rick appeared to be going very badly – they barely seemed to speak, and when they did it almost always ended in arguments, from what Carol could tell, at least. Lori, who was now probably _at least_ nine months pregnant, needed support, and wasn't going to be getting it from Rick anytime soon. Carol couldn't leave her friend when she needed her. It was just her nature. Besides, Carol had nothing against having a roommate, at least for now.

Still, even after Lori was asleep, Carol couldn't even bring herself to climb to the top bunk. She'd been sitting on the chair in the small cell, talking to Lori quietly until she fell asleep. After that, she'd been lost in her own thoughts for a while. It was so quiet in the prison. No sounds of nature like they were so used to from being outdoors, no sounds of walkers, thankfully – at least right now. The silence was welcome, but it was… eerie. It seemed like the calm before the storm, as if any minute there would be a deafening roar and something terrible would happen. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Carol longed to sleep in a bed again, thinking that after so many nights on the ground or on hard floors, even a prison mattress would probably feel heavenly. And yet, she fell back into her old habit of avoiding sleep. Her nightmares hadn't been as bad lately as they once had been, but she continued the practice of not sleeping until she couldn't avoid it any longer. She wondered if the fact that she didn't sleep until she was completely exhausted made a difference in whether the nightmares came or not, and she wasn't willing to risk it.

Sighing heavily, she stood quietly and stretched, her muscles protesting slightly after sitting in the chair for so long. She walked quietly out of the cell onto the long balcony along which so many other identical cells opened. It was strange, she'd never thought she'd be living in a _prison_, or that she'd be so happy about it, for that matter. _Life sure is full of surprises_, she thought for the thousandth time in the past few years.

She looked around at the moonlight streaming in through the high windows, illuminating the cellblock. With everyone asleep in their cells, the cellblock looked and felt abandoned. It gave Carol the feeling that she was there completely alone, even though she _knew_ that she wasn't. She hated that feeling, like she was the last person on Earth. She remembered that she'd felt that same way one night back on the interstate when Sophia had been missing, as she'd looked out over the graveyard of abandoned cars, their owners all long since dead and gone and not a living thing in sight. It was a horrible feeling. Not quite as startling as her nightmares, however, terrifying just the same. She clenched her hands into fists and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly and trying to calm down.

Daryl had slept fitfully for a few hours, but had been lying awake on his perch ever since. It was too early to go hunting, still completely dark outside but for the moonlight. He itched to move, but he had finally resigned himself to sitting up and cleaning his crossbow instead. Everything was quiet below him, and he liked that he could keep an eye on it all from there. Looking out for everyone, but remaining apart from them. As he sat there, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and watched Carol walk out of her cell silently, padding into the swath of moonlight that fell from the windows high up on the wall opposite her cell. He wondered for a second what she was doing up, then realized that she was probably just avoiding sleep, as usual. They were in a new place, but she was the same person.

She took a few more steps forward to the railing, leaning lightly against it and looking down to the ground floor a few levels below. She was glad that she wasn't afraid of heights. The railing seemed sturdy enough, and she realized that it must have been made to withstand a lot more than her own weight. She imagined that everything in the prison had been made that way – to withstand the greatest possible punishment by many, many very strong, angry individuals – and she couldn't help but think that that building would probably still be standing long after everyone in her group – possibly everyone that was left on Earth, because surely there couldn't be _too_ many? – had perished. She shivered slightly at the thought, even though she wasn't cold.

She glanced up at the windows, leaning against the railing a little harder now that she had determined that it would hold her. She watched the moonlight coming in, and was reminded of standing on the porch, leaning against the railing at the Greene Family's farmhouse so many times the previous year. This prison catwalk sure was different from that farmhouse porch, and yet, here she stood in the same position. That world – the farm – already felt like a million years ago.

It seemed impossible to believe that she was the same person that she'd been back then. She'd been broken by Sophia's disappearance. Her only identity had been as a mother, and then suddenly, she wasn't even _that _anymore… then when the empty shell of Sophia had stumbled out of the barn… she shuddered at the thought. There had been her unintentional isolation from the group when they didn't know what to say to her, which she herself had compounded because she'd felt so lost. Besides having lost hope, she'd been defenseless, not yet having learned to either shoot or use a knife. She'd become useless, defenseless, and alone…

But no, that wasn't completely right. She'd _felt_ on the verge of being alone and broken, as if the very essence of what had made her who she was had been sucked from her body, and yet… Daryl had pulled her back from the brink of despair. He hadn't been able to fix anything that had been wrong – no one could – but he'd been there, and that was all that had mattered. Somehow they'd always understood each other. No, she was certainly a different person now. And yet, at moments like this, she felt her former, more fragile self, hovering just below the surface. It was the silence that did it, she reasoned. The silence was deafening.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she happened to glance up and she saw a slight movement, drawing her eyes to the platform that Daryl had named "the perch." He had claimed it for himself when they'd arrived, saying that he "wasn't sleepin in no cage," or something like that. She hadn't noticed him there when she'd come out of her cell, but now she saw that he was sitting up, watching her. Without a second thought she shot him a small smile, hoping that he couldn't see from where he was that she was blushing slightly, somehow afraid that he had heard her thoughts about him, innocent as they were. He just nodded in return. She went back to staring down over the balcony, almost immediately lost in her thoughts again… which was probably why she didn't hear him until he was standing beside her.

He watched her for a few minutes, as she looked down to the ground floor, then all around the silent cellblock. He didn't mind the silence, the isolated feeling of it, but he knew that she must be hating it. She didn't like being by herself like he did, that much he'd learned back at the farm. She was alone only because Sophia was gone, so it made perfect sense that she felt tortured by silence. As he watched her, she had stopped looking around and just stared straight into space, as if lost in thought. He wondered if that railing reminded her of the one back at Hershel's farm. She was standing kinda the same way that he'd seen her stand back on the porch of that big white house. His itch to move returned suddenly, and he'd only just formed the thought – S_hould I go down and see if she's okay?_ – when he was silently on his feet and padding down the stairs as quietly as he could.

She felt his presence before she saw him from the corner of her eye, which was the only reason she didn't jump at his sudden, silent arrival beside her. Daryl, being a hunter and tracker, always had to make an extra effort not to sneak up on people because he was used to moving so quietly. He stopped and leaned against the railing, imitating her posture, a few inches away on her left side. They'd stood that way many times back at the farm, and there was something comforting in the familiarity of it, despite the strangeness of their current surroundings.

"Y'alright?" he whispered, concern on his face. In the vast emptiness of the prison, all noises seemed to echo much louder than they were intended to be, so he kept his voice as low as he could while still audible to her, attempting not to wake anyone. "Can't sleep?"

She nodded, glancing over at him with a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay," she replied in the same quiet tone. "You know me, not gonna sleep if I don't have to."

"Ya gonna need to find a hobby er something, all this spare time on yer hands," he joked. "Keep yerself busy while everybody's sleepin."

"Yeah?" she whispered good-naturedly. "You have any suggestions?" Her smile reflected her amusement at Daryl Dixon telling her to find a hobby.

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head in pretend sadness, "Don't know nothing 'bout hobbies. Just know that some folks got 'em. Er… _had_ 'em." She chuckled then, and he joined in quietly. "Probly not many choices left today, though," he added. She nodded solemnly, comfortable silence falling between them Neither of them spoke for quite a while. They just stood beside each other, lost in their own thoughts.

"Do you think we'll be able to stay here?" she whispered suddenly, out of nowhere.

"Dunno. I reckon it depends what we find. Gotta clear more of the building first, and it's a _big_ fuckin place," he said matter of factly. The truth was, they were bound to discover walkers _somewhere _in the prison. It was simply a matter of where, when and how many. In a prison this size there would've been a _lot_ of inmates, and once the walkers had started getting in when everything started… well, suffice it to say that the place was made to be hard to get out of. The trick would be to clear as much of the building as they could, piece by piece, while keeping the parts that were cleared secure. Luckily for them, prisons were made to be secured in exactly that way, section by section. It seemed like they at least had a shot, but it would definitely not be easy, and it would undoubtedly be dangerous. There were so many unknowns.

She nodded at that, understanding what he _wasn't_ saying. It was true. She didn't like to think about it, but there had to be walkers in the building somewhere, probably lots of them… However, there were _definitely_ walkers outside the fences surrounding the prison, that much they could _see_, so to be inside a somewhat secure building with walkers in another section that they hadn't yet found seemed marginally safer, at least for now.

Carol stifled a yawn, then grimaced when she saw Daryl raise his eyebrows at her. She knew what was coming. "I don't want to," she pouted before he had a chance to tell her she should get some sleep.

"But ya gotta," he said gently. There was something about his gravely voice that she always found soothing, even when he was telling her something she didn't want to hear.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to turn the attention away from herself.

"What 'bout me?" he replied. _She really is as stubborn as I am_, he thought in amusement, and _not_ for the first time.

"_You_ should get some sleep," she told him quietly. "Rick's gonna have you hard at work again in the morning. You're probably gonna be clearing more of the building, and who _knows_ what else'll come up."

His head bobbed up and down in agreement. "Yup, seems likely." Neither of them made a move toward their beds, perfectly happy to stand where they were a little longer.

The minutes ticked by, and Carol yawned again. Daryl sighed slowly. "That's it, c'mon. Bedtime. _Go on,_" he told her reluctantly, sternly this time. Carol sighed too, smiling slightly despite the childish pout on her face. She turned around and leaned her back against the railing lightly, looking towards the cell where Lori was sleeping.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" she said. "And what about you?"

"Slept a bit, earlier. 'M gonna try again though, I guess. 'F I'm givin you such a hard time, suppose it's only fair."

"Good," she said simply. She pushed off the railing, taking a few steps then looking over her shoulder at him. "Good night, Daryl," she whispered.

"Night," he grumbled, nodding at her and shuffling back toward his perch.

She walked slowly toward the cell where Lori was sleeping soundly, managing to climb to the top bunk without waking her friend. She found that the bed felt even more comfortable than she'd expected, though in reality it wasn't anything exceptional. It was just far better than the hard ground she'd gotten used to. She pulled the thin blanket around her and before she had time to wonder whether she'd be able to sleep, she had drifted off.

Daryl climbed the stairs to his perch silently, feeling calmer than he had since he had woken up hours before. He lay down on his thin bedroll beside his newly cleaned crossbow, and despite thinking that he'd lay awake until sunrise, he too quickly fell back to sleep.


	36. Strong

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… and since I can't buy the franchise, it's lucky that I can keep the characters inside my head for free.**

**Author's Note: Thank you to my _wonderful _reviewers! There are a few of you who encourage me so consistently, it's like having my own cheerleaders. If only we could all have so much positive reinforcement in all parts of our lives! :) Here's one more chapter of cuteness before it all goes to hell... Hope you enjoy it... and feel free to let me know what you think! :)**

**Season 3, episode 1**

**The Prison, Morning**

Rick, Daryl, T-Dog and Hershel stood around a table in an empty room, looking through the stash of weapons that they'd managed to find that morning in the prison armory. Carol had been doing her best to comfort Lori, who was worried sick about the baby and needed to talk to someone who could calm her down. So Carol had gone to get Hershel, since he was the only one with real medical knowledge, hoping that he could say something that would ease Lori's mind. Hershel had headed up to the cell the women were sharing to talk to her, so Carol decided to make herself scarce. No doubt Lori would rather have a private conversation with him.

There was no cooking or washing up to be done at this hour, and everyone inside the prison walls seemed to be occupied with one thing or another, so she decided to see what was happening outside. Anything to take her mind of off what so many people that she cared about were about to do, which would mean putting themselves in danger yet again…

The weapons inventory had been completed just after Hershel had left with Carol. Rick had decided hopefully that whatever Carol had asked Hershel to do, it should be finished within fifteen minutes or so. She knew the importance of the task they were getting ready for, so he doubted that she would ask him to do anything that would take longer than that. "Let's meet back at that gate that accesses the inside of the building in fifteen minutes," Rick had told Daryl and T-Dog. "I'll let Glenn and Maggie know." The other two nodded. They grabbed the weapons they needed and headed out of the room, going their separate ways.

Daryl couldn't have explained why, but he had the urge to seek Carol out before they left on their "expedition." They had no idea how many walkers they'd encounter down there, how dangerous it really was… he supposed he just wanted to have a minute to talk with her beforehand, the way some people wanted a kiss for luck. **Not that he wanted one.** Just the accidental thought alone made him blush, and he was glad no one was around to see his face flush as he stalked through the empty hallway to find her.

No, it_ wasn't_ that he wanted a kiss. He flinched at just the _thought_. Not that a kiss from her would be a _bad_ thing, but… _STOP_, he told his jumbled emotions. It was just that he always felt calmer – albeit often more confused – in her presence. And it wasn't that he was _afraid_ of what they were about to do, exploring the inner parts of the prison… He'd be the first to say that he took the threat of walkers very seriously, but afraid of them? No, that didn't seem like the right word. Granted, there were times when fear did seem like the correct thing to feel where walkers were concerned… that night at the farm, for example… But in general he knew how to take care of himself around them. Would it be possible to get into a situation he couldn't handle? Of course. He could only fight off so many on his own. But afraid to clear the prison? No. Cautious might be a better word for how he felt.

He sighed internally at himself in frustration. Surely he didn't need to spend so much energy analyzing this. Really he just had the urge to go talk to her before they went to see what was down there. She was his friend, and he just felt like talking to her. Simple as that. That alone was an unfamiliar enough feeling to him, without introducing any other elements into it. He didn't_ need _people. He just _didn't_, never had. Until now, that is. He kinda liked it and hated it at the same time.

She had almost reached the stairs that led to the cellblock door, thinking she'd go outside and see if whoever was on watch in the guard tower wanted to be relieved, or check the fences around the perimeter, do _something_, when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know that they belonged to Daryl. Their weapons inventory must have broken up shortly after she'd come to retrieve Hershel. She wondered if Daryl's presence there was a coincidence, or if he'd been catching up to her on purpose. In a place this size, coincidences were possible but less likely…

It only took a few minutes before he found her. She was at the other end of the hall, heading for the stairs to the cellblock door that went to the outside yard. He fell in step behind her, almost catching up with her when she stopped and turned around, smiling at him. She stood and waited for him to catch up with her, looking glad to see him, if he wasn't mistaken. "Y'all leaving soon, to go down and… explore?" she asked hesitantly. Just the idea of the unknown down there and what might be waiting for them made her nervous. She knew that they had survived encounters with walkers many times since the camp outside Atlanta, however, they'd also lost many people to walkers along the way. It only took one mistake… Daryl's voice broke her out of her momentary flood of thoughts.

"Yeah, bout fifteen minutes," he replied. She nodded slightly, looking down to try to hide the nervousness she felt. He watched her bite her bottom lip unconsciously. _Is she worried?_ he wondered in surprise, realizing that it wouldn't be the first time. She worried about everyone in the group. It was just in her nature. But he wasn't used to people worrying about him, hadn't yet gotten used to _her _worrying about him, though she'd been doing it for some time now. He looked past, up her towards the cellblock door. "Y'on yer way somewhere?"

"Not really, just trying to give Lori and Hershel some privacy to talk. Nothing needs to be done in here right now. I figured I'd see what was happening in the yard, if anyone needed help out there." She only hesitated before adding, "Come get some fresh air with me." She tilted her head toward the cellblock door.

He nodded, and together they climbed the stairs and walked to the door. He pulled it open, then stepped back to hold it for her to go through. That hadn't happened to her very often in the past.  
>Someone, besides an occasional stranger, holding a door open for her was almost foreign to her. She was fairly certain she would never get used to this small courtesy. She smiled awkwardly as she walked past him through the open door, whispering "thank you" and looking at the ground. He shook his head in a dismissive gesture, as if to say that he hadn't done anything worth being thanked for, as the two emerged out into the sunshine. They were happy to note that the days were slowly getting warmer as spring arrived, and the sun was a welcome change from the dark interior of the prison.<p>

She was glad he was there. She preferred his company to the others' most of the time. And yet, she'd been trying not to think about how nervous she was about the group of them going down into the unknown depths of the prison, so of course it was hard _not _to think about it with one of them – the one she was _most_ worried about – walking beside her. She looked at the ground, willing herself to be calm. _One foot in front of the other._ But it wasn't working. She felt her heart pounding in her throat. They'd been through so much already, lost so many people in so many truly horrible ways. She just had a bad feeling about this foray into the unknown, one she couldn't explain.

She couldn't tell him not to go, she knew that. She wouldn't ask that of him, and she wouldn't expect him to stay while others put themselves at risk. He was always the first one to put himself in harm's way to help others. It was one of the first things that she had loved about him, back when he'd tried so hard to find Sophia. Still, it didn't mean she had to like it. She couldn't bring herself to speak as they walked out into the field.

They continued in the direction of the fences that held the walkers at bay, turning towards the middle of the field and walking parallel with the fence when they got close enough to start hearing their moans. Daryl couldn't help but notice that Carol didn't seem like herself as they walked in silence. She was staring at the ground in front of her, her face unreadable. He kept glancing at her, but it was as if she'd suddenly gotten lost in her own thoughts. His footsteps slowed until he stopped right there in the grass, and she went only a few steps beyond him before realizing he had stopped. She turned around and walked back, looking up at him only reluctantly.

They knew each other well enough by now that he didn't have to ask. " 'S gonna be fine," he told her.

She nodded quickly, looking back down. Inhaling slowly, she tried to steady her breathing and willed him not to notice, despite the fact that she _knew _he would. She couldn't, _wouldn't let herself_, lose control now. Not that she hadn't broken in front of him down plenty of times before, but she knew how uncomfortable it made him. Besides, she hated feeling weak. She didn't want to be that person anymore.

They heard someone calling their names, and looked back at the prison building, where they saw Rick waving at them from the door into the cellblock. "Gotta get back," Daryl mumbled, and Carol just nodded again. Daryl waved at Rick in acknowledgement, and Rick went back inside, letting the door close behind him. Neither of them moved. Daryl felt like he had to do something, but was momentarily paralyzed, unable to think what that something should be. While he wasn't exactly afraid, he could see that she _was _afraid on his behalf, afraid for all of them. He knew that nothing would reassure her except for their safe return, and he couldn't offer her any proof that that would happen, despite the fact that he believed it.

After another moment's hesitation, he cleared his throat. "Hey," he grumbled. She met him eyes, again reluctantly, and he could see that she was making an effort to smile. "You're not getting rid of me that easy. Alright?" She nodded, maintaining eye contact this time but not quite trusting herself to speak yet. He tentatively raised one of his hands and rested it lightly on her arm, just above her elbow, giving it a small squeeze before releasing it and dropping his hand again. To anyone else it would have been no big deal, but she knew better. That was a grand gesture from Daryl, and her smile became a genuine one. She tilted her head toward the building, and they started walking back slowly.

They walked the rest of the way back in silence, but it was a different silence than they'd shared on the way out. She would absolutely still worry about him, about all of them, but she couldn't allow her fear to control her. There was so much to be done, so many people here who needed her. She would be strong, because that was the person she _wanted_ to be. He wasn't afraid, not exactly, she could tell, so she'd somehow manage to be strong as well.

They climbed the steps and reached the door, and once again he stepped forward to pull it open and then stepped back to hold it for her. She shook her head at him, mumbling "thank you" and walking through to the other side. Without another word they made their way to the locked gate that marked the entrance to the unknown, the so far unexplored part of the prison. Her feeling of foreboding hadn't gone away, but she chose to ignore it for now. She stood silently and watched while they suited up in leftover prison riot gear. Daryl didn't, of course… he never even wore shirts with sleeves, so there was no way they were going to get him to put "that shit," as he had called it, on.

While Rick was breaking the news to a disappointed Carl that he had to stay behind, and Maggie and Beth embraced quickly, Daryl glanced up at Carol, who was standing beside the gate, watching him carefully. Their eyes met for a second, and her lips turned upward slightly into an almost-smile. He nodded at her once, as he usually did. There was nothing else to say, but as usual, no words were needed. Daryl filed through the gate, the others following him, and Carl locked the entrance after them.

And now the waiting began.


	37. Friends

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… but that won't stop me from pretending I'm writing the episodes myself.**

**Season 3, episode 2**

**The Prison, Day**

Carol had been at Hershel's bedside for hours – she couldn't be sure just how many – so when Maggie asked for a moment alone with her father, Carol gladly took the opportunity to stretch her legs. She realized that she hadn't heard whether anything else had happened while the group had been down in the belly of the prison. There had only been time to think about Hershel when they'd arrived frantically back at the gate with him. She'd been around Glenn and Maggie since the group returned, of course, but it didn't seem like the time or place to ask them anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. She assumed that someone would have told her if anyone else had been hurt, but she wanted to be sure. She needed to see him with her own eyes in order to be sure.

She looked around, not seeing Rick, T-Dog or Daryl anywhere, and felt a combination of curiosity and concern. She hadn't found anyone who knew anything more than she did by the time she made it to the gate that they had rushed through earlier. Carl was now sitting nearby, having taken up guard duty at the entrance after leaving Hershel's cell. He was holding the keys in case someone needed to go in or out.

"Carl, have you seen your dad or Daryl or T-Dog lately?" Carol asked, trying not to sound worried.

"Not lately. After they came in with Hershel, Daryl was up here watching that door through there." He pointed through the bars to a doorway on the far side of the room, "and then these other guys came in. I guess they were prisoners who'd been locked down there somewhere. So my dad and T-Dog and Daryl were arguing with them about who was gonna stay in the prison and where. The prisoners tried to tell them we couldn't stay here, but my dad told them they could take another cell block or they could get the hell out of here."

Carol looked at him sternly, and Carl looked down, mumbling an apology for his language, then continued. "Uh, so anyway, I think my dad, T-Dog and Daryl went off to clear out one of the cellblocks for the prisoners to stay in, so they'll be separate from us." Carl shrugged.

She bit her lip and nodded, trying not to show just how concerned she was over this news. So, the group had gone down to the tombs and had almost lost one of their own members – and _could_ still lose him – and they'd turned around and gone right back into danger? There may not have been another choice, she knew, but that didn't mean she liked it any better. She didn't even realize that she'd started pacing until she heard Carl's voice interrupt her thoughts.

"Carol? You okay?" She stopped, looked up and nodded, offering him a weak smile. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine. I know they take care of themselves, and I know that we've been in these situations before… I'm _always_ concerned is all. About every one of us. I guess it's part of being a…" She choked on the last word. "A mom."

He could see her eyes watering, and he felt like somehow it was his fault, even though he'd only asked her if she was okay. He'd been watching her from the beginning, since that first day on the interstate, and he knew what a hard time she'd had and how far she had come. A lot of times people forgot he was there, because he was a kid, and it gave him a chance to watch people in the group more closely. By now, she was family to him, and he hated to see her upset.

"You were a great mom to her," he told her quietly. "And she loved you more than anything. She told me so." It had seemed like the right thing to say, but suddenly he began to doubt that when he saw tears welling in her eyes and then quickly falling down her cheeks. He was confused, because he thought he'd said something nice. "Oh my gosh, Carol, I'm sorry…" he stood up quickly, unsure of what to do next. He took a few steps toward where she'd stopped pacing and looked at her. She was like a mother to him, and in some ways she acted more like a mother than his own mom did.

She tried to stop herself from crying, but she hadn't been expecting Carl's words, and they'd caught her off guard. She walked the last few steps toward him and bent down a little, reached out and hugged the boy who was standing there, now _very _confused. She hadn't been the only one who'd lost Sophia, she knew, though she had felt that way at the time. She knew that Daryl had taken her death hard, but she often forgot that Carl and Sophia had also been close. She hugged him tightly for a moment, then relaxed and stepped back, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Carl. You're sweet to say something like that. I just… miss her." She sniffled a little, but she smiled at him.

"I do, too," Carl said simply. They smiled at each other sadly, and Carl sat back down in his chair. Carol walked to the bars, lacing her fingers through them and leaning her forehead against the cool metal. It was almost like she was willing herself to be able to see what was going on through the solid walls beyond the gate. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Carl suddenly broke the silence.

"Carol, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetheart," she replied, turning around to look at him, now leaning her back against the bars. Carl had a strange look on his face, and she wasn't quite sure she was going to like the question.

"What's up with you and Daryl?" He almost looked embarrassed to be asking, yet also extremely curious.

Carol felt herself blushing furiously, and she looked up toward the windows, that were just below the ceiling, and took a deep breath. She looked back down at Carl, who was watching her very closely. She wondered if she could explain it. She'd yet to be able to explain to _herself_ what was going on with Daryl. But she figured that she may as well try. After all, he was young. He didn't need a complicated explanation.

"Daryl and I are friends. Best friends, I guess you could say. We have a lot in common, things from our pasts that we went through separately, and that were really difficult, so we understand each other more than most people. It's rare to find a friend like that even once in your life, and if you do, you're very lucky. So… he's very special to me. We have a connection that you don't often find with another person… if any of that makes sense." She wondered if she'd done it justice with that answer… whatever _it _was between them.

Carl just nodded. "You know everyone can see it, right?" he asked simply. She just smiled at the boy. There was no point in acting surprised or denying anything, she supposed. She sighed slightly, wondering about the "it" he was talking about. What was it that they could all see, anyway?

She looked at him thoughtfully. "There's so many terrible things in this world. There always were, really, but there's even more of them now. So these days, _anything_ good that you can find in life, you have to hold onto it as tightly as you can. And you can't take it for granted, because you never know how long you have it for. That goes especially for special people. There's so many more dangers now, so many ways people can be taken away from you. Things aren't like they used to be, and they probably never will be again. But we keep trying. It's all we can do." She paused, wondering where in the world all of this was coming from. "I'm sorry, I don't know what possessed me. I don't normally give speeches like that."

He nodded at her solemnly. "You're right, though," he said quietly.

Carol smiled at him. Carl was growing up so fast, and he seemed to have bypassed a good chunk of his childhood out of necessity.

She suddenly realized how tired she was. "I should probably go lie down for a while, it's been a long day," she told him. "Thanks for keeping me company." Carl nodded at her, not completely unlike the way Daryl often did, and she smiled at him again as she turned to go.

She was going through the doorway that led to the rest of the cellblock when she heard him say "I'll let Daryl know you were looking for him."

Turning back to look at him, she called "Thank you, sweetheart," and then disappeared back into cellblock.

…

Hours later, Carol was sitting on the cold, hard floor outside of the cell she shared with Lori, her back against the wall, staring up at the sky through the high windows. There was no moon that night, and there was so little light that all she could see were shadows. It might have been unsettling, but she'd been sitting there for what felt like hours, and her eyes were pretty well adjusted to the dark by now. She'd laid down in her bunk, knowing that she needed to rest, before Lori had come back from keeping vigil at Hershel's bedside. When she came in, Lori had told her that Hershel had woken up, which was great news. She was so glad for Maggie and Beth, who hadn't lost their father after all. And as usual, when someone else got good news, her happiness for them was tinged with just a bit of sadness for herself.

Still, even with the relief of the good news about Hershel, she couldn't manage to fall asleep. She'd trained herself so well to fight sleep, that this time when she actually wanted to sleep, she couldn't make herself do it. She was exhausted after the past few days, but her mind was still swirling with thoughts. About Hershel. About the walker that she'd cut open out by the fence, trying to "practice" so she'd have the faintest idea how to deliver Lori's baby, due any day now. About living in the prison. About the dangers that lay waiting for them the more of the prison they explored… About Daryl.

She'd been tossing and turning in the bunk above Lori, and was afraid that she'd wake her with all of her movements. Finally she gave up and climbed down quietly, padding out into the hall and leaving Lori sleeping peacefully. The poor woman was so stressed, Carol thought, she definitely needed the rest.

She'd now been sitting on the cold, hard floor outside the cell for what felt like hours, and she finally decided that she'd had enough of sitting there. She got up walked to the far end of the balcony, then roamed up and down the length of it. She passed each cell, all of which had now be cleaned out the best they could, some occupied and some empty. When she got to the far end of the railing for the third time and turned around, she found herself looking directly at Daryl's perch… which was empty. Lori had told her when she'd come up to bed that the group had come back from clearing the other cell block just in time to see Hershel wake up. Lori hadn't mentioned anyone else having been injured or any other problems.

She wondered where he was, if he had maybe gone on watch. She walked back down to the other end of the balcony where the stairs went up again, and climbed up slowly. She'd left a pile of clean laundry at the end of his mattress, and they were gone, so he'd been there at some point in the last few hours. Beside the mattress was a pile of dirty clothes that was undoubtedly covered in all manner of things from today's adventures. She'd deal with that tomorrow.

She walked softly back down the stairs, then made her way out of the cellblock into the yard. She headed toward the guard tower and remembered too late that she would have been wise to grab her jacket, thin as it was. She just told herself to walk faster.

He'd heard the cellblock door open and then close from where he stood, which he thought was odd for that time of night. He'd offer one guess as to who it was, unless there was some sort of real emergency. He could just barely make out a shadow scurrying across the yard, and he could already tell that his one guess was right. He shook his head at her, running around out there without any light. He hoped that she at least had the sense to have her knife on her, and waited, leaning against the railing of the balcony, for her to make her way up the stairs into the tower.

He was a hard person to sneak up on, and she wasn't as well trained at moving quietly as he was, so she figured that if it was Daryl in the guard tower, that he'd seen her coming. She opened the door tentatively – this had become a habit for all of them, since you could never be sure what you'd find on the other side of a closed door – peering through cautiously before stepping all the way in. She saw him standing out along the edge by the railing, and simultaneously felt relief to actually see that he was okay and slightest bit of annoyance with him for making her worry.

She walked into the room at the top of the guard tower, but didn't go out onto the balcony. Instead, she stopped a few feet inside the doorway and crossed her arms across her chest. Daryl turned and looked back at her, confused by the combination of a look of relief on her face and her body language, which seemed to say that she was upset. Or maybe she was standing that way because she was cold? He'd be the last one to claim to understand women. He took a few steps towards her, so that he was almost in the doorway. "Y'alright?" he asked her.

She nodded, sighed, and her face broke into what he could only describe as a smile that also looked like a pout. "I'm glad _you're_ okay," she replied. "You had me a little worried."

Before she stopped to think about what she was doing, she walked slowly towards him and raised her arms up around his shoulders in a hug, resting her arms only ever so lightly against him. She knew that even though she'd moved slowly, she'd caught him off guard, but she hadn't been able to stop herself. Her relief that he was alright, especially after spending half the day covered in Hershel's blood, with the group's patriarch lying unconscious before her, had overpowered her. It wasn't a long hug, and she was already starting to pull back when she felt his hands move for the first time, hugging back gently, low on her back just for a few seconds, before they fell back to his sides.

She took a step back, really hoping she hadn't made him too uncomfortable. "Sorry," she said, smiling apologetically. "I know you don't like that kinda stuff." She watched him carefully, but he didn't look nearly as traumatized as she had expected.

He surprised her by smiling slightly. " 'S okay. Told ya it'd be fine."

A devilish smile came across her face as she realized that she may be able to get away with pushing just a little further. He saw it flash across her face and knew exactly what was about to happen but could do nothing to stop it as she added, "Just couldn't keep my hands of you." She tried hard to suppress a grin, but failed.

"Pfft," he mumbled, flustered as usual. "_STOP."_ Then they both laughed, and everything was back to normal. "So, you have a nightmare or somethin'?" Not that she needed a reason to come up and visit him on watch, but he was just curious. He hated to think of her having another nightmare.

"Nope, haven't been to sleep yet. First time in ages I actually _tried_ to go to sleep, and wouldn't you know I laid there wide away for what felt like hours," she sighed. "I was tossing and turning so much I was afraid I was going to wake up Lori, so I sat outside the cell for a while, just thinking… you know, _torturing myself_ a little," she grimaced, knowing it was the truth, and knowing that he knew it as well. "So then I paced up and down the walkway in front of the cells a few times, and since I hadn't seen you yet, I figured you were out here… so here I am," she finished, waving her hands as if describing something spectacular. "After all, I had to make sure you were okay after your big adventure."

He shook his head at her. " 'T's a busy night you've had," he observed wryly. She chuckled, knowing exactly how crazy it sounded.

"What can I say? Who says there's no nightlife at the end of the world?" They both chuckled again.

The sound of the cellblock door opening drew their attention to the prison building, and they saw a dark shape moving toward the tower. "Who's up next?" she asked him.

"Think it's Rick, 'less he switched with someone," Daryl replied. Within a few minutes they saw that it was indeed Rick who was next on watch, as he came in through the door at the top of the steps, greeting them sleepily.

"Hey Daryl. Hey Carol. You guys go on and get some sleep," Rick said, taking up the same position on the balcony that Daryl had been in when Carol had arrived. Daryl nodded at him and started towards the door.

"Good night, Rick," Carol said quietly, smiling at him before turning to follow Daryl down the stairs.

They walked back to the cellblock in comfortable silence. The air was just as cool as it had been earlier, but she was feeling so much better, having reassured herself that Daryl was alright, that she barely noticed. They walked up the metal stairs as quietly as they could, their feet clanging only slightly. Before Daryl started up the stairs to go up to the perch her turned to her and whispered, "You're goin to _sleep_ now, right? No more roamin round in the night? Cause ya need yer rest. Ya work too hard durin the day not to."

"Yes, Daryl, I'm going to bed now. And I could say the same for you. Get some rest," she whispered back to him. He nodded at her, as usual, and she just smiled and shook her head. "Good night, Daryl."

"Night."


	38. Faster

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… I only wish I'd thought of it first!**

**Season 3, episode 4 (No, I didn't skip one by accident. Episode 3 took place solely at Woodbury)**

**The Prison, Day**

It was one of those moments when things are going well for a split second – okay, not perfectly by any stretch of the imagination, but things had been looking up for once as they had settled into the prison, and they had felt like they had a semblance of control over what was going on around them. It was the first time that had happened in almost as long as they could remember.

Daryl, Glenn and Rick had been gathering firewood outside the outer fence, with the intention of getting as much as they could so that they could burn the last of the walker bodies. There'd been talk of burying them, but no one could stomach the thought of growing crops in soil that walkers had been buried in. Even if it wasn't dangerous, which they could never be sure of, of course, it was just downright disgusting.

As the three men came through the hole in the fence with their firewood, they dropped it on the ground and looked up the hill to see Hershel, on his crutches and up and about for the first time since his near death experience. Despite everything they had been through, despite how many people dear to them that they had lost and the grim reality that they faced every minute of every day, they allowed themselves that moment of happiness. The fact that the man who had become the patriarch of their group had recovered so well was nothing short of a miracle.

However, on this particular occasion the perfect moment preceded another moment, where the world seems to tip on its axis, and just as quickly as the perfect moment had come, it was gone. More exactly, their happy moment seemed to catch fire and explode before their eyes.

No one knew how walkers had gotten inside the yard, but suddenly Carl happened to turn his head and saw them, already nearly upon them. "Walkers!" he yelled, and in a flash the group had scattered in various directions. Most of them were now in danger just where they should have been the safest, in the yard just outside the cellblock, which had long since been cleared. Three of the men who were usually on the front line of the group's defenses were stranded at the other side of a wide yard, with multiple fences and locked gates in between them and the rest of their family. In short, it was a nightmare, but there was no waking up from it.

As Glenn stopped to tie the hole in the fence that he and the other two had just emerged through, so that it was safely closed again, Rick and Daryl took off running along the length of what they called the "dog run," a path lined on both sides by fences, as if the ground below them was on fire. There was simply no way for them to get to the others fast enough as they watched the horrific scene unfold before them, saw Beth trying to get Hershel to safety as the others began to fire on the advancing walkers.

The faster Daryl ran, the more he felt time slow down, almost to a crawl, to the point where he felt that he was moving in slow motion – the subject of some kind of cruel stop animation. No matter how hard he pushed his every muscle to go faster, faster, faster, there was no way to move fast _enough_. As he ran, he saw images float before his eyes… things that he _knew_ were memories, but that he saw before him as clearly as he felt the dirt beneath his feet and the crossbow gripped tightly in his hands.

The first thing that came to his mind was Carol, who he'd caught a glance of as she stood watching Hershel from over beside the cars with T-Dog just a moment before… Except now he saw her entering the guard tower through the door at the top of the stairs. It was the night when she'd shown up on his watch, the night after they'd cleared out the cellblock where they'd left Axel and Oscar after the other convicts had turned on them. It seemed like yesterday. _Had_ it been yesterday? Time was not something he could focus on right now. He saw her standing there, conflicted, relief at seeing him unhurt in her eyes, yet clearly angry with him, and then out of nowhere, she was hugging him. It had startled him, and yet… he'd liked it. He'd even admit to himself, but _only_ himself, that he hadn't wanted it to end despite how awkward he'd felt. She could be stubborn and frustrating at times, and she pushed his buttons like no one else… and yet, being near her made everything else in the world seem simple.

_Run faster_, he told himself._**You have to get to her.**_

Then suddenly, he could see her sitting on the guard rail on the side of the interstate, staring blankly into the trees and waiting, hoping, _praying_ for Sophia to come back. The blood pounded in his ears, and he couldn't hear anything happening around him but the rhythmic thumping sound beating in time with his heart. He felt as though he was swimming in molasses, but there was nothing he could do but continue to push through it. He focused on Carol as he continued to move.

He knew that what he was seeing wasn't real, but he couldn't help but gasp slightly as his vision suddenly changed to Carol at the CDC, in the control room, at that moment when they had all been about to die. She was clutching Sophia tightly, afraid for all of their lives because that asshole Jenner had decided to trap them in the building with him just before it was going to blow up.

He heard her voice shouting, "My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this."

_Sophia._ No, she hadn't deserved to die like that, and she certainly hadn't deserved to die the way she _had_ died. She hadn't deserved to die _at all. _None of them had, but her least of all.

He almost choked as he thought about that little girl who he'd never even really known. He'd _seen_ her, of course, he'd known _of_ her, had seen her with Carol, but he'd never really known her. It didn't matter, because he knew that she had been worth all of the effort he'd put into trying to find her. Worth _more_ than what he'd done, so much more. No one who'd been raised by Carol could possibly have been anything other than a pure soul, despite the nightmare that her father had made them live through… that much he knew. He wished for the thousandth time that he had done more, and nearly lost his balance as he ran and he physically felt the guilt stab at him. _He hadn't saved her_. No, it was worse than not saving her. He had _failed _her_. _Never in his life had he felt like as much of a failure as he had at the moment that Sophia had stepped out of the barn.

_Run faster,_ he told himself, _**and save her mother from the same fate**_.

Without warning, he saw Carol hold a gun straight out in front of her, aim at the target, and fire. It was just target practice, there was no real danger that day, but he saw the satisfaction and delight that lit up her face as she hit her target squarely, making the small tin can fall off the wooden fence it had been sitting on. He'd been standing off to the side watching her with satisfaction, since she didn't really need help with how to stand or how to aim anymore – though he had to admit that teaching her those things hadn't been entirely unpleasant… Being that close to her had been confusingly… what was the word for it, anyway? Their proximity that first day of lessons had left him both calm and exhilarated at the same time. _Was _there a word for that feeling? When he thought about it, it was similar to how it felt to be around her in general, just more intensely, maybe because they'd been so much closer?

_Just run faster_, he told himself.

By now he felt his muscles burning from pushing them so hard, and yet still he felt as though he was running underwater. He focused on Rick in front of him for a matter of seconds before his mind was flashing elsewhere again. That night at the farm. He'd been sitting on his motorcycle, watching the barn burn to the ground in the distance, and with it his hopes had almost gone up in smoke as well. The home that they'd hoped would be their refuge was now overrun. They had known that they couldn't stay there forever, and yet… it had been the most peaceful place they had found since the Turn. He hadn't known who from the group was alive and who wasn't, and he'd tried to tell himself that none of it mattered.

He'd been about to drive away into the night and accept the fact that he was alone again, just when he'd gotten used to being part of the group… _because she had convinced him to _be… when he heard her scream. He was surprised to realize just how glad he was to see her alive, and he'd driven to her rescue, getting to her only seconds before the walkers who were only a few feet behind her. He hadn't recognized the feeling at the time, but looking back, he realized that what he'd felt when he'd seen her was relief. Relief to find her, and to be the one to save her. That time he _hadn't_ failed, thank goodness.

_Run faster_, he told himself, _**and save her again**__._

Rick was at the gate, fumbling with the keys as he and Glenn caught up with him. They panted heavily and cursed the lock that was keeping them on the wrong side of the gate while their friends – _no, their family _– were being attacked. After a few agonizing seconds, the gate was finally unlocked and the men ran through, only for Rick to have to fumble with another lock only a few steps later. The seconds that it took to get through that gate as well felt like hours, before they were able to continue running toward the others. As Daryl began to run again, the slow motion visions began swimming before his eyes once again almost immediately.

It was a night early in the winter when they'd been sitting in the darkness together on the front porch of… where were they? He couldn't tell, couldn't remember. One of many, many different random houses where the group had spent the night over their time on the road. He was sitting on the steps of the front porch on watch, so of course she had shown up, bringing him a plate of whatever she had fixed the group for dinner and sitting with him until his shift ended, as she nearly always did. Well, not _quite_ until his shift ended. On that particular night she'd been very sleepy after a particularly hard day, and as they'd sat quietly looking out into the night, as they usually did, she'd nearly nodded off to sleep sitting up, accidentally leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," she'd mumbled awkwardly as she realized that her head had dropped onto his shoulder. She had pulled herself back up quickly, suddenly sitting rigidly beside him. He knew that it wasn't because she herself was uncomfortable, but because she knew that _he _was uncomfortable with physical contact, and she didn't want to invade his personal space.

"S'okay," he'd mumbled back. She'd gotten up shortly after that, saying she was going to bed so she didn't end up falling asleep on him again. _I should have said something else. Should have told her that I didn't mind_. Because though he'd been startled by her head on his shoulder at first, he hadn't minded it, not really.

_Run faster_, he told himself, _**and **_**tell her**_** next time**__._

Speaking of telling her things… The knot in his stomach tightened noticeably when he thought back with regret to the terrible things he'd said to her, both before and after Sophia had come out of the barn. At the stable, then even worse, at his campsite…

"_Just leave me be!"_

"_Stupid bitch."_

"_If you spent half your time minding daughter's business instead of sticking your nose in everybody else's, she'd still be alive!"_

"_You don't know jack. You're afraid. You're afraid cause you're all alone. You got no husband, no daughter. You don't know what to do with yourself. You ain't my problem! Sophia wasn't mine! All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"_

It was as if he had thought that by hurting her, he would somehow be less angry. He didn't remember why in the world he'd thought that, but it certainly hadn't happened. If anything, he'd ended up even angrier, and had felt guilty to boot.

He was yanked into the present by the feeling of his lungs burning from exertion, and he almost choked on the anger and frustration that he felt with himself at this last memory. She hadn't deserved any of it. She had deserved so much better, and no matter that they'd fixed things between them since then… he would _always_ regret saying those things to her… _especially_ if he didn't get to see her again. He couldn't even accept that as a possibility, and yet he knew that it was a very real one.

_Run faster_, he told himself. _**Run faster.**_

Rick finally got the last gate unlocked and the three men arrived at the spot in the yard where the others had been standing when the walkers appeared, firing on the walkers that were still in the vicinity. They found only Hershel and Beth still there, safe behind a chain link gate at the top of one of the stairwells leading to a door to the inside of the prison. Rick stopped to ask Hershel and Beth about the others while Daryl and Glenn took care of the last walkers. Daryl's heart pounded in his chest as he fought to catch his breath, both from running and from anxiety.

_Please,_ he thought, _don't let it be too late_. _It can't be too late. _There was far too much left to say.


	39. Helpless

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead… at the moment, anyway… :)**

**Author's Note: I apologize for the despair of this chapter now, though I don't think it comes as a surprise to any of you. Even knowing that neither of them are dead or hurt, even being the one **_**writing**_** this chapter, it gave me both chills and tears in my eyes at various points, so if that is any indication of how it'll go for you as a reader… well, don't say I didn't warn you. Despite the emotional roller coaster, I hope you enjoy it. :)**

**Season 3, episode 4 and 5**

**The Prison, Day**

It was some kind of nightmare. It had to be, because there was a walker biting T-Dog on the shoulder as he struggled to lock the gate to stop the rest of them from getting to their side. This couldn't be real. It _couldn't_.

"NO!" Carol shrieked in terror as she watched it happen. He'd been closing the gate to _save them_, and now it was going to cost him his life. She couldn't even process the horror of that second, and there was no time to, because there were still walkers on their side of the gate with them – though not nearly as many – and they had to get inside, away from them. The walkers were only a few steps behind them as she narrowly escaped through a door to the inside, with T-Dog following behind her.

Having been in these interior maze-like halls of the prison before, T-Dog he was pretty sure he could find his way back to their cellblock. He limped slowly along with his arm over Carol's shoulders. She wondered at the fact that despite everything, he didn't seem to be afraid. When she suggested that he should rest, his response surprised her. "This is God's plan. He'll take care of me. Always has. He's gonna help me lead you out of these tunnels," he told her. She couldn't argue with him… there just wasn't time. Besides, how could she argue with him now, when he had so little time left? They both knew all too well that there was nothing that could save him now, and it was only a matter of time… a very short amount of time, most likely. There was_ never_ enough time.

Suddenly, as they rounded a corner, two walkers came around the corner straight in front of them. Carol instinctively tried to turn around and go back, but T-Dog stopped her, insisting that they were close. Before she could stop him, he rushed forward and pinned the two walkers against the wall straight in front of them, screaming at her to go as the walkers began snapping at his flesh. He'd already been bitten, and she saw this gesture for what it was – he knew he was going to die, and this was him saving her.

Realizing that there was nothing she could do for him, and not wanting his sacrifice to be in vain, Carol ran past them around the corner, into darkness with only a gun with no ammunition. No flashlight. Did she have her knife? Yes, she reminded herself. But still… _I'm not going to make it. _She shuddered at the thought, and pushed it from her mind. There was no time for pity or doubt or she really _wouldn't_ make it. The important thing now was to _try_.

Thankfully, there were shafts of light filtering randomly down into the hallways at odd angles thanks to tiny windows placed haphazardly by the ceiling, so she was not in complete darkness. Still, it was difficult to navigate based on that light alone. She crept down one dark corridor after another, turned one corner, another, a third, a fourth… and realized that she had no idea where she as going. T-Dog said she was close, but T-Dog had known where to go. For all she knew, she could have been going in the wrong direction since she'd left him behind. _Left him behind_. She tried to ignore the sting of those words. _How could she have left him behind?_ She knew that there had been no other choice, and yet still… it seemed so wrong, such a horrible way for him to have to die.

She heard Daryl's voice saying "_Focus, _woman," and her breath caught in her throat as she felt a twinge in her chest. _No, I can't think about him now,_ she told herself. _There may be time for self-pity for losing Daryl and self-loathing for leaving T-Dog later. But __**only**__ if you're lucky._

She had been wandering through the twisting corridors for quite a while now, several times changing course when she heard walkers approaching. By now she knew how to confidently deal with walkers, of course, but she had no way to know how many she would run into at once, and she was only one person. Better to avoid them if at all possible. It seemed like she'd been doing this for hours, though there was no real way to judge time. The only thing that allowed her to keep going when exhaustion should long ago have forced her to slow down and rest was the adrenaline pumping through her and the knowledge that stopping now would probably mean death.

Suddenly she rounded a corner and stopped short, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. It was the same corner where she had left T-Dog, where he'd had two walkers pinned up against the wall and had screamed at her to run past. The walkers were no longer there, nor was T-Dog. Rather, _some_ of him was gone. The two walkers, and possibly others, it was impossible to tell, had begun to devour him. She felt the bile rising from her stomach and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Turning her head to the side and bending over involuntarily, she threw up in the corner, trying her best at least to vomit quietly. There wasn't much in her stomach, so it didn't take her long to finish. She feebly wiped her mouth with the back of a dirty hand and staggered forward, tears already falling down her cheeks all over again.

Not only could she just not bear to look at what remained of T-Dog – that was horrible enough on its own – but besides that, the realization dawned on her that she had just ended up in the same place where she'd started, making a feeling of panic rise in her chest. She'd gone in a circle. _I'm never going to get out of here_, her thoughts screamed inside her head_._ She beat them back. _I have to try_, she argued back at herself. _I can't give up._ And yet… giving up seemed so much easier, and she was _so tired_. _**No**__,_ she told herself firmly. _That's not you, and you know it. Besides, the others will be looking for you._

The others. _Daryl_. Suddenly she couldn't push the thought of him away any longer.

She felt an ache so strong it nearly knocked her down, as she thought about her family, about him. About never seeing him again. About what it would do to him if she didn't manage to find her way out of this miserable, hellish maze. For a second, it was hard to breathe, and she put her hand on the wall to steady herself, leaning hard against it for support. _Deep breaths,_ she told herself. _It's not over yet. You've been through worse, you'll get through this too._ Had she been through worse? She wasn't sure that she actually had, but at that moment, it didn't matter. Whether she had or she hadn't, she chose to believe that she had. She chose to hold on to hope for as long as she could. She wasn't the victim she had once been.

She imagined that if the others had survived (she tried not to dwell on the "if" in that part of the sentence), that eventually they would come looking for her. She knew that Daryl would, even if no one else did. She had nothing to leave behind as a signal, a sign, except… _her scarf._ She unwound the scarf from her head slowly, knowing that leaving it would send a message that they – that _he – _was _not_ guaranteed to interpret correctly. She knew that the message it conveyed could be either that she was alive, or that she was dead… but she had no choice. She placed it on the ground beside what was left of T-Dog, tears in her eyes once again for her friend, and walked away as steadily as she could, blinking away the tears as resolutely as she could. _Keep going._

She continued to wander for what felt like days. She tried to choose a different path than she had the last time around, since it had only gotten her back to where she started, but it was so dark, and the halls all looked identical, and it was nearly impossible to know where she was, where she had already been, or where she was going. She moved as quietly as she could, as carefully around corners as possible, doubling back several times to avoid the familiar moan of walkers… it was like a never ending hell, some sort of horrible test that you'd read about in Greek legends. She tried not to think, only to listen and to move.

Eventually though, she realized that even the adrenaline that had been keeping her moving was seeping out of her. She'd killed a few walkers, each of which she'd been lucky enough to stumble upon individually, and had been able to deal with them one on one. There was no way to know how long she'd been down there, but the light filtering in from outside was beginning to fade, and she knew that without that light the tunnel-like hallways would be nearly impossible to navigate. Yes, the walkers made noise, but she couldn't either run from them or overtake them if she couldn't _see_. She was distracted with worry over the fading light when she rounded a corner, not taking the care that she usually did to move slowly and check that the next hallway was clear before rounding the corner completely.

Suddenly, she was face to face with a walker who'd been standing quietly, leaning against the wall and not making a sound. Thankfully she had her knife in her hand, because she had only a split second in which to react before the walker would have had its teeth in her. The surprise of finding the walker so close to her made her drive her blade into its skull with more force than was necessary. However she had done it, once the knife went in she could not get it to come back out. She pulled as hard as she could for several minutes, but to no avail.

Finally she decided that she didn't have the strength to pull anymore. She let go of the knife, and the walker's body fell to the floor with a loud _thud_. She sadly realized that she didn't have the energy to _fight _anymore. With a sigh, she turned around and saw a door on the far wall of the hallway. She walked to it and turned the knob, pushing with what little strength she had left. It was a heavy door, and it moved slowly, so she threw the rest of her weight behind it, and gradually it opened. She peered through the opening, finding that the small room appeared empty. This would have to do for now. She couldn't walk anymore, and staying out in the open hallway was suicide, as walkers would eventually find her. She had to rest.

With a sigh she pushed through the doorway into the small room, collapsing against the wall, making sure the door closed behind her before she allowed her eyes to close. She choked back a sob as she realized that while this room might be safe from walkers, it would probably also be impossible for anyone else to find her here. Daryl was a tracker, but in these hallways it was doubtful that she had left any tracks for him to follow.

She now allowed herself the self-pity that she had refused to indulge in earlier, and tears rolled down her face as she felt the pain of knowing that she _wasn't_ going to make it out of this alive. That she _wasn't_ going to see her family again. That she wasn't going to see _him_ again. It was too much. It wasn't fair. They'd already been through so much, both individually and together, and had watched so many of them die horrible deaths. Her biggest fear since she had lost Sophia had been ending up alone, and now she was going to _die_ alone. It was more horrible than any death she could imagine, and she couldn't stop the tears that were falling down her cheeks, so she didn't even try. She just allowed them to flow silently, feeling sure that they would never stop. That feeling of helplessness, of being utterly and completely alone, was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

…

Daryl, Rick and Oscar roamed the hallways of the prison, looking for the others. They'd split off from Glenn and Axel to cover more ground. It was slow going through the dark corridors, even with flashlights. There was no telling who or what they would encounter, and they could only hope to find their friends… _alive_. They were quiet out of necessity – any noise could draw walkers. There was no telling how long their search was going to take, and they were all anxious, especially having been attacked in the generator room. At least they'd been able to turn off the alarms that had echoed loudly throughout the entire prison.

There was no way to tell how long they'd been wandering the tunnels when they came across it. Nothing could have prepared them for the sight in front of them as they rounded a corner and saw two walkers bent over, feeding… Rick shot the two walkers in the head and they got closer, not wanting to know, but knowing that they had to… It was T-Dog, or what _had been_ T-Dog. Beside what was left of his remains, which was almost nothing by now, Daryl saw a familiar cloth, one that made his heart lurch as he bent to pick it up, not wanting to believe that it was here between his fingers. _Carol's scarf._

Daryl had never been one for emotional outbursts. On the contrary, keeping his feelings to himself and venting them out in private was pretty much his specialty. Still, he had just begun learning to process his feelings differently – to accept them rather than just react to any change in emotion with anger, as he had all his life – as he had gotten to know Carol. There was a split second, as he stood staring at the cloth he held, when his vision went dark and he felt like he might fall to the ground then and there, but he knew that this was not the time or place. He could not afford to be devastated now, there was too much at stake. He pushed the feelings back, settling them into a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and a buzzing in his head, telling himself that later, _later_ he would let himself process it. It couldn't be now. It just couldn't.

…

After they'd met back up with Glenn and Axel, and after they'd gotten back to the courtyard and discovered that Lori hadn't made it, but that Carl, Maggie and Lori's baby _had_, and after he and Maggie had gone on a run to a daycare and found supplies to feed Little Ass Kicker, as he'd called her… after all that, Daryl had finally been able to head out to the woods.

Sure, there were walkers outside the fences of the prison, but just then, he didn't give a fuck. What did it matter, anyway? He tied up the hole in the fence after himself and as he passed the tree line into the woods, he immediately felt his hold on his emotions begin to crumble. He knew that he couldn't afford to let go completely. He had to have his guard up at all times out here… and yet as he stood in front of the trunk of a tree that was at least twice as big around as he was, he let himself lose control just a little. He kicked the tree as hard as he could, pain instantly shooting up his leg, up his spine, through his entire body. As much as it hurt, he almost liked it. The physical pain was so much easier to endure than the emotional pain he was feeling, and it took his mind off of the pain in his chest for just a second, just long enough.

Of course, the hollow ache in his chest came right back again as soon as the pain from kicking the tree subsided, so he did it again, this time with his other foot. Again, the same almost pleasant distraction from the pain in his chest at the cost of the pain in the rest of his body. _This_ was the reason that he had hardened himself against emotions all of his life. Because early on his father and Merle had taught him one lesson: that being "soft" as they'd called it, caused nothing but pain. Sure, they'd been the ones inflicting the pain, and doing it on purpose, but no matter. He'd managed to let go of that mentality since Carol had convinced him to join the group – okay, maybe not completely let go of it, but enough to start processing the world around him the way other people did, using feelings besides solely anger. He'd even liked it, the way he had let himself change around her. But this…?

_This was agony._

He knew that he should be looking for something to shoot out here in the trees, not just walkers but also some kind of game to bring back as food. As soon as he'd thought that, of course, his next thought was to imagine bringing it back and handing it to…

_Carol._ She was the one he always brought the food back to.

He sank to the forest floor on his knees. He was not going to make it. How could he? Every single goddamn thing he did or thought reminded him of her. Their connection had always been so simple, so comforting, so… so what? How to even describe it? He didn't have a frame of reference, nothing to compare it to. She was the first friend he'd ever had. Incredible as that may have sounded considering how many years he'd been alive before he met her, it was true. He'd since come to consider the other group members friends – family – but she was the first one, and by far the best one. As awkward as things sometimes were between them, he trusted her with his life, and she had saved it more than once, just as he had saved hers. Not in the same ways, maybe, but that didn't matter. More often than not, she'd saved him _from himself_.

_Who was going to save him now?_

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the forest. While he knew it wasn't the wisest move out here, he couldn't make himself care just then. He felt almost as though he couldn't breathe, and he was shaking all over. He couldn't take this. _He couldn't._ He stood back up angrily and stomped through the underbrush, wanting desperately to shoot something, be it walker or game. He'd tromped along as quietly as he could make himself, for maybe ten minutes when he came to a dead stop. His breath caught in his throat and he found that his feet were rooted to the ground where he stood. He wanted desperately to leave that spot, _not_ to see the sight that was before his eyes, and yet, he couldn't make himself move.

Straight ahead of him stood a bush full of Cherokee Roses. He thought back to the ones he'd found by the abandoned farmhouse when he'd been looking for Sophia. How he'd brought one back for Carol in a beer bottle vase, and had told her the story of the Native American mothers… he couldn't even finish the thought. It was just too painful now. He took a deep breath and exhaled, hearing the air leave his mouth shaking. He felt tears in the corners of his eyes – _Tears? Goddammit! _he thought angrily – and walked a few steps to the nearest tree, kicking it as he had the first one again, for good measure. He felt the same physical pain, but found that it didn't do anything to dull the ache in his chest this time. He gulped the forest air into his lungs again, but to no avail. Nothing worked to calm him down so he stood still in that spot until he could think straight again.

He had no idea how long it was before he could move again. Slowly, as if he were the slightest bit frightened to do so, he walked back toward the bush of white flowers. He walked around it in a circle until he found the largest of the Cherokee Roses, reached down and pulled the flower, along with the last inch or so of branch that it was growing off of, from the plant. He held it in front of him for several minutes, willing all of this to be some sort of terrible, twisted nightmare. He stared at the flower as if it were trying to communicate with him, as if he were willing it to speak to him, to tell him that there had been a mistake, that she wasn't really dead… but of course, no such reassurance could come from a flower. Eventually he placed it in the inside pocket of his leather vest, took one more look at the bush where the flowers grew, turned and walked slowly away. There was nothing else he _could_ do.

It was dawn when he finally emerged from the woods. He knew that the others would have been wondering about his safety, but when it came down to it, he didn't really care. He knew, or he was pretty sure, that they would understand. He and Carol had always been close, and he figured that by now that fact wasn't lost on the others, nosy shits that they could be sometimes.

He headed straight to the edge of the field where three graves were neatly arranged beside each other. Lori's. T-Dog's. …and hers. As he approached, he noticed the sky, which was a mix of yellows and oranges, already bright despite the early hour. _She would have loved that sunrise_, he thought. They'd watched their share of sunrises and sunsets together, and he shivered with a chill that ran through him, completely unrelated to the weather, as he recognized helplessly that there wouldn't be any more. Any more sunsets, any more sunrises, any more shared watch shifts, any more meals cooked by her, any more of her jokes, any more… anything. Nothing. Ever.

_It was too much. _

He felt the walls going back up within himself, the ones that had come down only so very gradually and only because of her. Another deep breath, and he reached into the pocket inside his leather vest and took out the white flower, the Cherokee Rose, that he'd put there not so long ago. He looked at it, feeling his heart break yet again, if that was even possible, as he laid it in the dirt on her grave. He tucked it in the center where small rocks had been arranged in a "C" shape. He pushed the dirt up around it, trying to anchor it to the ground to protect it from the wind, urging it to grow in that very spot. It would have been so fitting.

To anyone watching him, he appeared to be the picture of calm. The only time his face almost betrayed him was when he touched the cross made of sticks tied together with string before he stood up again. As his fingers touched the cross, there was something in his face for only a second or so that reflected just how much he had cared for the woman who the grave belonged to. Maybe no one else would have noticed, had anyone been there to watch. No one, that is, except Carol. _She would've noticed_, he thought sadly as he stood up. There was nothing else left to do, so he walked slowly back to the prison, to the others, to a life without her.


End file.
